Tearing God Asunder
by byebye-babeh
Summary: They were the married couple that led separate lives, but now, Sigyn finds her life being regrettably woven back into Loki's life and schemes... for better and for worse, and until death do they part. Logyn Please Read&Review
1. Part I: Making Deals with God

**Tearing God Asunder**

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><p><strong>Summary:<strong> Estranged for years, the married couple Sigyn and Loki have led separate lives in perfect harmony until now. Fear consumes all persons in Asgard since their one connection to the outside realms was shattered and rumors from Heimdall tell them that Loki lives. She finds herself at the mercy of the criticism for slacking on her duties as a wife and conspiracies she is Loki's greatest ally; therefore, she is an enemy of Asgard who should be hanged for her crimes.

Faced with the choice of aiding Thor in his desire to keep his promise to the young mortal, Jane Foster, and fleeing for Midgard or staying in Asgard where she is nothing more than an enemy in the people's eyes, she decides the only way to clear her name is to aid Thor. But doing so means leaving behind the life she has built with the up and coming Crimson Hawk Theoric and heading back to the realm of her darkest nightmares.

**Rating:** T for violence, language, and suggested/implied adult content. Rating could possible change to M for later chapters.

**Warning:** Character deaths will occur in this story. This story will not have fairy-tale ending because too often, life does not have a fairy-tale ending.

**Main Pairing:** Loki/Sigyn vs Sigyn/Theoric

**Other Pairings:** Thor/Jane vs Thor/Sif, Fárbauti/Laufey, Coulson/Pepper, Odin/Frigga, and Stark/any _pretty_ female in the story.

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><p><strong>AN:** Without furtherado, here is the revised version of _Lead Me Back to Normalcy_. Let me know what you think of the story (and if you were a fan of the orignal, how it compares.) I will thank you in advance for reading this story! I hope you enjoy it very much! :)

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><p><strong>PART I – Making Deals with God<strong>

_Silence has become normal between us. Not the nice kind of silence, or the comfortable kind of silence. But the awkward kind of silence, like between strangers. Our silence is an avoidance of the truth. - Unknown_

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><p>For being the Lady of Victory, she had suffered many losses. Sigyn mused that the mortals had given her name the wrong meaning; more fitting would be the Lady of Silence, and if that were the meaning of her name, she could hold her head smugly in Odin's court with the other Gods and Goddesses. In all that is gold in Asgard, she might even crack a smile on her full lips. But her lips were stitched into an emotionless frown. The thick, black thread with crusty scabs that weaved between her top and bottom lips were unseen by everyone but she. She traced her slight fingers over the wounds only she could feel. Sigyn found a strange comfort in the pain that tickled her lips.<p>

This is what unconditional love had landed her in life.

A best friend whom she married to help prove he was the worthy son.

A lover who still wrote her love letters in purple flower's ink.

Two buried sons that did never lived to see the light of day.

By high laws' orders, she had a stranger for a husband.

Love, in this kind of a state, was a poison—a slow, agonizing poison that left her weak but alive, yearning to be with Hela.

She sank onto the bed, the sleek, brown covers were thrown into dishevel. Her long, unkempt curly, red but now nearly grim black locks fell into a spider's shape around her broken heart-shaped face. Grey eyes glazed over in the foreign emotions she thought she had left behind in her childhood. Against her fair skin, they looked ghostly, unnatural, disgusting. It was odd how both longing and despair could be wrapped up in a stare. Even stranger when that stare was directed to Loki's half of the empty bed.

They had not been intimate since Váli's death; which, by Odin's beard, had been _years_ ago when they were adolescents blossoming into young adults. All of Asgard knew they were_ that_ married couple who led two separate lives. Neither of them had ever spoken to the other about separating. Sigyn, recalling those strange seasons, surmised that they had grown apart as they grew older. Loki had his affairs with the women, Angrboða, Queen Karnilla of the Norns, her own Aunt Freya, and by her own accidental discovery, Sif—Sif had been equally as surprised when she discovered Loki had taken on Thor's form. Naturally, Sigyn assumed that was only the very beginning of a long list of women Loki loved.

She had never been envious or even wrought with rage for Loki's li'l adventures. The goddess was wrapped up in her own affair with the soon-to-be Crimson Hawk Theoric. The sentry was much like Thor in build, brawny and bulging with thundering muscles. He was her fiery, dirty brown haired boy with matching skin that escorted her every place she went when outside the protective walls of Odin's hall. He was the man who kissed her before greeting her with gentle lover's words and filled her with regret of every marrying Loki Odinson.

Tiredly she reached out to touch where Loki's body would usually be slumped over, stealing her goddamn blankets in the middle of the night. The trickster slept like a rock at night because during the day he was constantly in motion, speaking on behalf of Odin to her grandfather Njord, plotting out his next prank on Sif or Thor or both of 'em, pleasuring himself, and inventing new spells of trickery to use in battle. Really, when one thought about his busy day, it only made sense that as soon as his head hit that pillow, he was out for the rest of the night.

She sighed despondently. How peculiar was it they had continued to sleep in the same bed _every_ night for centuries, even after their whole separation. Sigyn could not recall a night she ever spoke a word to Loki, or he to her. The only times they spoke to each other were cordially at the banquets when they rarely became engaged in the same conversation. But the lady could have cared less about his words right now. Sigyn wanted his presence back in the bed so she could get a decent night's sleep.

The Goddess had never realized until Loki fell from the bifrost just how lonely the bed was at night without him. Granted, he was nothing more than a stranger emotionally to her now. There was something deeper or perhaps more shallow—Sigyn could not quite classify the physical need to have him as either—that left her bones aching. The bags underneath her eyes were just the tip of the iceberg of how badly her sleep schedule had been interrupted by his selfish act.

The creaking of the door across the room did not bother her. She slid her eyes over to Thor's hulking form that plodded towards the bed wedged in the far corner, hidden in the shadows of the flame. The God of Thunder still clung onto the strange Midgardian ways of walking around in loose pants with his boots hidden underneath their folds and a tight, linen shirt. He his hair had grown unruly and splayed over his shoulders and down his defined back. "I saw your light still glowing from the barracks," Thor stated, as if he truly needed justify a meeting with Sigyn.

He sat next to her on the bed and sunk into its softeness. Jane was small compared to him, but Sigyn in all honesty, looked like a frail younin' next to him. She had the proportions of a child but with the added bonus of a woman's elegant, lusty curves. Her breasts were small, hardly noticeable in her slack, azure nightgown. The playful energy that filled her body with so much life was burned out, smothered really by her deprivation of sleep. Thor folded his hands in his lap. "Are you well, Sigyn?"

The question was stupid because very obviously she wasn't okay, but this was Thor. He blundered badly with words. Instead, Sigyn ignored his words and solely listened to the genuine concern raised in his voice. "I miss him, Thor," she admitted exhaustingly, both physically (and emotionally because the lack of sleep intensified every damn emotion.) "I do not love him, but I miss him, very, _very_ much."

"You love him," Thor stated.

Her lips pulled farther down into a deeper, grimmer scowl. "No," Sigyn sighed. "You cannot a love stranger, Thor." She looked up to him with the glimmer of gentle kindness on the sharp edges of her weariness. "You miss your mortal, but can you cannot say you love her for she is a stranger to you still."

"There is the potential," he replied. "I love the potential of what may be in the future when I return to Midgard."

"Oh, Thor," she crooned. "You love with your eyes, not your heart."

"Was it not thee who agreed with Loki that all love starts in the eyes and then grows in the heart?" he asked.

She bit her dry, cracking bottom lip, drawing blood from the very center. "Yes," Sigyn agreed. "I did when we were all children." She reached out, curling her fingers on Thor's meaty thigh. Her mouth warmed, softening at the small contact with another person.

"Drink some hearty mead, Sigyn," Thor suggested seriously.

"I do not drink much alcohol," she reminded.

"Never too late to start," he said.

"Are you_ that_ lonely yourself?" Sigyn inquired.

That was so much like Sigyn to switch the conversation away from herself to others, a backwards way of her to sly and shy way from answering questions too personal. "I worry for you because I regard you as a sister," Thor clarified rather bluntly. The bluntness was well received by Sigyn digging her fingers deeper into the cloth, egging him further. "I wish to see you dancing down the halls again, singing sweetly to yourself, and enjoying life once more."

"You need not worry of my own well being, Thor," she assured quite well. "I am simply in need of rest."

Thor was like a rock that would not budge. His eyes weighed heavier on her chest. He may not have been the brightest bulb nor the best observer, but not even he could escape the rumors that had been circulating faster in Asgard than a viral video on Youtube. He feared their sharp words were beginning to cut gashes into her thin skin. "Do not listen to them, Sigyn," Thor ordered. "They are scared like the rest of _us_."

"_You_?" she choked on the air. "Thor, you fear nothing."

"Simply because I do not show fear does not mean I do not feel fear," he elaborated. Thor closed his eyes as he rolled back onto the bed and took one of shy Sigyn's hands in his own. She gently squeezed his hand and ran her thumb over the top of his course, mammoth hands. He smiled at the warmth she still brought to others when she was herself in grief. It was no wonder the mortals referred to her as the Mother of the Gods. "I experienced a great deal of fear on Midgard: fear that I would be mortal till the end of days, fear that I would never return home, fear I had wronged my family, fear I had lost my family." He slid his eyes to connect to Sigyn's own pair. Somehow her damaged eyes still managed to strip his soul bare and still leave him feeling powerful.

It had to do with how she appeared so small and childish, even before the grief. Her presence could not help but evoke a deep, throbbing need to protect the one who spent her days weaving bright threads into their lives. Many times, he and others still felt compelled to buy her toys and tease her about her childish playfullness. He sighed. Where had that playfullness disappeared? More importantly, how did he go about getting that back? "I fear for you, Victorious—" Her mouth curled nervous, dissatisfied smile. "Sigyn. So busy are you with others, we neglect you until your grief becomes our own."

"I take much pride in fixing _those _broken things," she boasted sweetly.

"But who fixes you when you are broken?" he asked bluntly.

"I am most certainly _not _broken," Sigyn assured strongly, sounding insulted. She bristled into a sitting position with her shoulders squared and held held dignitly high but not to be confused with haughty pride. "The mortals may paint me as _that_ abused wife, but you should know better, Thor. I _am_ the Lady of Victory."

Thor grinned silly like a young boy. "There my sister is," he chuckled happily. Sigyn's cheeks were scorched with embarressment that she had fallen into a trap set by _Thor_. The corners of her mouth curled into a sly, relieved, and grateful smile. He yanked on her arm, earning a squeal of brief pain from her, to pull her onto his chest. Sigyn slid off his chest and tucked herself in the nook between his great swinging arm and sculpted chest. Being around Thor, she easily slid into her role as the child he and others protected. She wouldn't lie that she did not enjoy being the one protected for once. To Thor, she would _always_ be a little girl.

Her hands curled around Mjölni's handle to marvel at the soft but worn leather. "What did the mortal call your weapon again?" she inquired.

"Mui-mui," Thor answered. He collected his thoughts, trying to sort out and put all the pieces that made up the mortal together. "Darcy is a very intriguing lady. She spoke of many strange things, including Facebook."

"Facebook?" Sigyn asked light-heartedly. "What is that? A book full of faces?"

"I imagine so," he mused. "She was able to paint my face in a blink of an eye with this odd instrument." The God lifted his free hand to illustrate the size of the small cellphone. "I am not sure how, but she claimed that my face would go into this Facebook."

"Midgard is a _very_ odd place," she spoke. "It has changed much."

"You have been?" he asked innocently.

She nodded complaciently. "_Long_ ago," Sigyn whispered, barely audible to even herself. "Before Njord." That was an aspect to the Goddess Thor had never quite understood; Loki, who despised their father with a throbbing passion, still referred to Odin as his father. Sigyn never reffered to the Hostage King as a father figure while Njord refferred to Sigyn as a daughter. He knew she was adopted later in her childhood, but ... she had lived with Njord every day up until the night she went from Loki's bride to his wife. That would have been an equivalent span of ten mortal years. Maybe blood did mean more than what Thor had first thought...?

He blinked and turned his curious eyes to Sigyn. The God could not help but wonder what reasons brought Sigyn to Midgard. She was not mortal—at least, she wasn't one anymore. Maybe she had started out mortal and ate one of the gold apples to turn her into a Goddess? Or maybe she had always been a God and simply lived in Midgard? But why would she have been abandoned then? Aesir did not abandon their children. Sigyn stuffed her aching eyes behind their lids. "What was it like?" Thor inquired curiously.

"Cold," she said in a detatched, I-really-couldn't-give-a-shit tone.

He laughed loudly, booming really at her voice before squeezing her tighter into the nook. Sigyn squirmed uncomfortably until Thor loosened his death grip, but she was nonetheless warmed by his strong arm. "Then that was _very_ long ago! Midgard was warm, uncomfortably so when walking with the sun. I had never seen a realm like Midgard with red sand and rocks that stretched from horizon to horizon. Actually, Midgard looks like that troll that lives underneath the bifrost. I do not know how Jane can wear so many layers of clothes in that fire."

"Sounds unorthodox," Sigyn commented.

"Mortals are _very_ strange," Thor agreed. "They do not believe in us, Gods and Goddesses, either. The majority of their culture worships God and his son Jesus."

"Who is Jesus? I have never heard of him," she asked curiously. "Did you meet him?"

He shook his head. "No," Thor mumbled. "Jane did not go into much detail about him. Darcy went on a rant about how our presence disproved The Bible. Erik was deeply troubled by this concept because he was a Born-again Christian. Darcy continued on her rant, proposing that Jesus could have been a God like us—to which I claimed I never knew of a Jesus. Jane ended up comanding Darcy to silence her tongue." Sigyn was giggling as she always did when Darcy came into the conversation. Her laugh was contagious, and Thor's own chest rumbled."You must meet Darcy. I sense you two would be great friends."

Sigyn's laughter quieted; her smile contorting into both hope and a blunt sadness. The rest of her young face fell downwards like the coming rain. "I would love that very much, Thor, but—" She climbed halfway out of her warm cliche and folded her arms on his wide chest, placing her chin on her forearms. The rest of her lively hair fell over her back and shoulders, sprawling down to her upper thighs. "Mortals do not live long. In a few short days for us, they have aged years. Before long, they are off to be with Hela."

"Heimdall has stated Jane is young," Thor answered earnestly. "She is busy with SHIELD and Darcy."

"For how long though?" she asked gravely. "Our bridge is broken. There is no source of the supernatural in all of the nine realms strong enough to repair the bifrost. We are cut off from our greatest allies, completely vulnerable to attack from the giants. They know how to reach our gates, but we do not know where. I fear that the time will be soon upon us where we will be drowning in our own blood, just as Odin drowned the people of Aurgelmir in his blood." Thor threaded a hand through Sigyn's hand to comfort her in small strokes. "Ragnarök is approaching. I can feel our final destiny stalking us, led by Loki."

Thor bitterly sighed. "I held you to be the last one to speak ill of Loki," he reprimanded. "He is _your_ husband, Sigyn. You must _never_ speak ill of him—"

"Husband?" she coughed. "Loki has _never_ been a husband to me. We simply married because I would be able to marry up and stay in Asgard where I belong, and he could prove to your father to be a responsible son, ready to tackle the challenges of being partners." The words sounded so rehearsed but only because she had recited them for centuries on end, repeating over and over again her justifications for leading a separate life. "I feel more of a wife to Theoric than I do Loki." Sigyn eyes were filling with embarrassment for her shame. "I—I—I wish Loki would have died with the bifrost, Thor. I would have been freed from him and allowed to marry the man I love. I feel as if I am a monster for keeping Theoric bound to me. He is young and deserves a woman who can be his wife."

"Sigyn!" Thor uttered with astonishment and humility.

"I cannot help myself!" she defended crossly. "I am not sympathetic, Thor, but empathetic; however, I cannot be empathetic with someone who I do not understand their motives. As such, I will shed no tears for Loki—he causes his own miseries and must suffer those consequences. But what is not fair is that I must suffer for him as well simply because of a foolish act of compassion I did for him when I was a child. I—I—"

Her voice was cracking, shattering, and turning into ash. The redness along her cheeks deepened to a plum color and smoldered uncomfortably beneath her skin. The first of many tears scurried down her tender cheeks, catching sharply on the invisible stitches along her lips. A small cry came from her lips at the acidic feel of pain coming in contact with a heavy burden. "I cannot go out into Asgard without Balder and three of the Crimson Hawks to escort me. I see from the corners of my eyes how even the guards and servants revere me with a deep loathing from their justified, betrayed hearts. I feel as if I am that lone sheep in a field full of wolves." Sigyn pressed her head against his chest and clawed at his shirt for a place to for her fingers to curl around something safe and stable. "I—I—I f-f-f-feel so c-c-caged anymo-mo-oore," she sobbed. "I—I a-a-am loathing Loki. I want his head as much as the rest of Asgard for the suffering he is putting me through at this moment."

Thor … he was completely lost for words if any could be found for this situation. His stomach clenched with each sob that came ringing from her mouth. He bit his tongue, chewing madly like a boar on the worthless thing. Why was he not lucky like Loki and gifted with all the right words for every moment? He sighed through his nose and brought his great arms around his little, shaking, and terrified girl to protect her from an enemy he could not battle. Useless was how he felt just holding her on top of his chest.

Thor and she stayed like this till the candles began to burn low and her sobs dwindled down to heavy breathing. The front of his shirt was sopped with her tears and mostly likely permanently stained. "Sigyn," he called softly, cautiously. She lifted her tired eyes to his. Their shade of blue was the envy of Asgard and home to a stranger that had replaced their arrogant prince. Where there was cruelty once dominated housed another, kinder fate called restraint. "Would you accompany me for a ride through Asgard?"

"Now?" she spoke meekly.

"Of course!" he replied honestly. "The streets will be empty. You love to marvel at the realms and the many stars, no?" Thor used his hand to wipe her running, pink nose. "This would be the most opportune time to get out of the palace and enjoy Asgard in a new light."

"Thor," she groaned. "As enticing as that proposal sounds, I am in no condition to go riding. I—well, look at me! I am in my night gown, my hair a wreck, eyes stained red—"

"You are a handsome lady, Sigyn," he boasted. "Most men would find you even more ravishing in your attire." There was that jerky pull of his lips into haughty, that-was-the-prince-she-remembered smile. She might have reprimanded him if all her strength weren't sapped and his words anything less than genuine. "Theoric is a very lucky man to have found such a woman as yourself. The fact he waits for you only shows his absolute fidelity. You two make a good match."

"You and Sif are a fine match," she countered quicker than he expected.

He laughed, a bit at her witty attitude and nervousness. "Sif is wrought with anger for me," the God stated rhetorically.

"As would anyone woman, Thor," Sigyn commented. "Imagine if Theoric made a social call to Midgard, found a mortal, and then returned to me only a few days later claiming he had found his true love. I would be sick from my weak heart. Sif, she is ill because you fond over a complete stranger more than you ever did with her. I am empathetic for her and proud that she has not allowed her personal grieves to interfere with her duty to Asgard."

Thor caught the edge to her voice. "I have not shrunk my duties to Asgard."

Sigyn rarely rolled her eyes, but tonight seemed to be a night for breaking the norms. "In all that is gold in Asgard," she said sounding exasperated. "You have done little but pester Heimdall at every moment's notice to ensure your human is safe. You care more for that mortal than all of us in Asgard. Odin has raised his concerns of why kind of king you shall be of Asgard if you wish to protect Midgard over us. We cannot have a distracted king in these times."

"You simply do not understand," Thor growled. "If you saw, you would know the reasons for my stance."

"I am _listening_," Sigyn spoke clearly, very calmly.

"I said saw, _not_ listen," he chided harshly. The Goddess' face scrunched up to have the wrinkles of angry wolf pup; it was too cute to be taken seriously but enough to deliver a harsh bite. "I know no words to describe what I endured or how I act around Jane. I simply know that when around Jane, I am different but at home. Come to Midgard with me and you shall see."

"Come to Midgard?" she spat madly. "Thor, you have had your head beaten against the wall far too many times! There is no way to get to Midgard."

"Loki said there were more bridges between our realm and the other realms than just the bifrost," Thor explained. Sigyn's eyes opened wide. She was surprised not at the information but that Thor knew. "As you are the Lady of Victory, I have faith you will find a way out of Asgard and to Midgard."

"Thor—"

"You can come to Midgard with me and see Jane. You can get away from these people and start anew if you wish. Bring Theoric along!"

"Thor—"

"Why not, Sigyn?" he asked intently. "What more reason do you need to leave? Or what reason could be greater for you to stay here where you are unhappy?"

"I have duties to stay here, Thor!" Sigyn retorted.

"What duties?" Thor grumbled. "You are a princess. You are expected to be nothing more a beautiful figurehead and raise the future princes and princesses of Asgard."

"Dismissing me because I am a woman?" she asked rhetorically. The Goddess slipped from beneath Thor's arms to stand poised as both a poisonous snake and lady. She pointed to the door with her delicate finger. "You may leave my room now, Thor," she ordered. Thor sat up, watching her painfully struggle to keep her composure. "I may not portray myself as a man as Sif does, but that is not an excuse to revere me as anything less than a man simply because I favor to retain my femininity."

A punch rolled this his stomach; his own fingers curled into a fist at his own, stupidly unyeilding words. "I did not mean my words as an insult," Thor clarified. "I meant that you have no expectations to stay here."

"What message would that convey to the people of Asgard if a prince and princess fled Asgard for Midgard? They would panic, just as they did when you were banished to Midgard!" Sigyn ranted. "There in lies my duty to the people of Asgard. Just as it is your duty to aid them, my future king."

"So you are content to stay here? All the while Loki prepares for Ragnarök on Midgard?" Thor questioned. "How is _that_ protecting the people of Asgard?" Sigyn was silent and casted her sharp gaze down to the ebony floor where her faint reflection looked dismally back at her. Thor's great hands rested on either of her small shoulders and his shadow covered up the image of a dejected person. "Yes, you do have duties to Asgard to remain here, but you have an even greater duty to go to Midgard, not just for Asgard but yourself."

She sighed. "How is it, you who blunder badly with words, are the most convincing of the two," the Goddess complained lightly. Sigyn wearily smiled up at Thor, the dread already carving deep, stressed lines into her youthful face. Thor lifted her up, cracking her back in the process. "Thor!" she squealed painfully like a piglet.

"Oh, Sigyn!" he chirped happily, sounding happier than he had been before his exile. Thor placed her gratefully back onto the ground but still held onto her shoulders. A smile brighter than the sun radiated from his adorable dimples.

Her smile grew in strength. She kindly looked upon, grinning more at how his heart was leaping for joy in those eyes. The joy did not come from her mere agreement of helping him but that his promise to the mortal would go unbroken. Despite siding against Thor in his liking for a mortal, she could easily recognize the adoration he held for Jane. "We best leave before dawn," Sigyn suggested. She removed Thor's hands from her shoulders, moving towards a rack that held glistening pieces of her rarely worn armor.

He watched as Sigyn's hand travelled up and down the shaft of a spear that towered over her. She was adorable really with how she regarded the weapon thoughtfully and reminded him of the days when Odin would allow him to swing around a sword, as if Thor really knew how to use it. "We have no heading as to where any of these bridges are," he stated.

There was that innocent, playful smirk upon her soft lips. Sigyn looked over her shoulder to Thor with her eyes smoldering with something deeper. "Says you," she chimed.

"You know how to get out of here?" he asked delightedly.

Sigyn carried her spear in her left hand. She stood taller next to the weapon, just like a true warrior. Even her head was held just a hair differently, prouder, braver, and softer. The tiredness clung to her shapely form but was overshadowed by duty. Always such a grin and bear it person... "You would be surprised at all the secrets I know, both the good—" Her eyes strayed to the window where the glow of the broken bifrost was great against the black night sky. A thick, heavy rock sat in her throat, rubbing it raw. She painfully swallowed down the rock and felt it plop to the bottom of her gut. A shiver ran through her body at the heavy, sorrow feeling. Her heart beat slower at the memory of the tales of what occurred that night. Sigyn could not even begin to imagine how that night must, or should have plagued Thor every night when he went to visit Heimdall. "And the bad," she added weakly.


	2. Chapter 2

**Tearing God Asunder**

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><p><strong>AN:** Thank you for the feedback, Firehedgehog! I loved your review! Thank you to Kitkat, Mieschers, Ebony, and Buffy as well! The feedback really helps with my muse! I hope everyone can enjoy this new chapter and its strange twist! Or twists? I dunno. You can decide! Of course, feel free to leave reviews! I will be replying to them as best as I can!

**On a side note, God Bless America and all of those who lost their lives on 9/11. My heart and prayers go out to them, the brave firefighters, the soldiers still fighting afar, and their families. **

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><p>While Sif looked natural in armor, Sigyn always seemed so out of place in her sleek and minimal gold armor. Four straps—two on either side—wrapped around her shoulders and neck. Gold plating connected the inner two. Her gold armor was simple, a small, angular chest piece that pointed to the ground. A series of angular, v-shaped gold pieces along either side and down the middle of her abdomen also pointed to the ground. The shirt beneath her torso armor was oak brown. From her gold belt hung a deep, azure sash. The sash shimmered brightly against her deep brown, almost black leggings.<p>

On either arm were bands; the left was plain and simple while the right had different shades of gold weaved together. The same went for her oak wood brown gloves—the right glove's bands had the intricate gold weavings while the left was plain. Both of her boots, which were the same shade of brown as her gloves—had the gold weavings engraved in an angular point just below the knee. Above her ankles she had plain gold plating.

She had her spear strapped across her back to make for easier travel. In her hands, Sigyn had the black reigns wrapped and threaded through her fingers. Gyllir moved smoothly and responded with ease to every command, both allowed and through touch. The sunny chestnut steed led the way with his head held high and noble hazel eyes regarding the silent surrounding with deep thought.

The light, nearly steps of Lettfeti were soft compared to the heavy steps of Gyllir. The sun bleached black stallion floated over the even turf with natural grace. Thor, complete in his own armor, watched with amusement as Sigyn bobbed up and down in time with Gyllir. The moonlight caught like fire on her grim locks that flowed down her back and onto Gyllir's rump like a cape. "How is that we are to get to Midgard?" Thor questioned as he rode up to keep pace with Sigyn.

"Öndurdís is the lover of Ullr, the great hunter," Sigyn explained. "You know Ullr better as the one who gave Sif her shield to protect her against the swords and arrows of the enemy."

"But Öndurdís," the God replied. "She is a Jotun. Not to mention, she is married to your father."

She laughed. "Only in Asgard is Njord married to Öndurdís, Thor," the Goddess clarified. "On Jotunheim, she is married to Ullr but only on Jotunheim."

"So… We're going to Jotunheim?" Thor asked hesitantly.

"No, no!" Sigyn answered. "I know not how to get to Jotunheim, nor anyone else for that matter. Öndurdís resides here in Asgard. She spends nine nights here with Njord close to capitol before my Njord heads off with her to be the opposite side of this flat world. During those nine days, Öndurdís is united with her lover Ullr. He is the one we will seek."

"Why will we seek him?"

"Ullr is the best hunter. He can track anyone. I faith in him he can find a way to Jotunheim so we may find Thrym," Sigyn added. "From Jotunheim, we will go to Midgard."

"Why do we not just head for Midgard from here directly?" Thor questioned further.

"If there were such a path, then the bifrost would never have been built," Sigyn said slyly. "Midgard is the only realm not directly accessible to Asgard, but it is accessible via the other realms. The closest realm to Midgard is Jotunheim. That is why Laufey chose to take over Midgard rather than any other realm."

Thor raised a curious, suspicious brow. "How is it you know of all of this again?"

"Family connections," she dismissed easily. "Njord is married to Öndurdís. Then my Aunt Freya is married to Thrym, who is the King of Jotunheim."

"And why do we have to go see Thrym?" Thor grumbled unpleasantly. "If you fail to recall, he stole my hammer."

Sigyn giggled again like a little girl barely holding back a deep, dark secret. "Actually, Thrym did not directly steal your hammer. Býleistr, one his most trusted servants, stole your hammer. We must fine Thrym so we may find Býleistr, for he is wanderer of the nine realms and knows of every path from here to Helheim. Hopefully, if the Fates are kind to us, Býleistr will show us the way to Midgard."

"And if the Fates are not kind to us?" Thor added.

She casually shrugged. "You are Thor, the one who about started a war with Jotunheim simply because they ruined your day of glory," Sigyn reminded, giggling in between words. "Now, you are worrying about Jotunheim?" She brushed her head out of her eyes so she could smile with her eyes at Thor. "I do not know if you are truly Thor or an imposter."

"Imposter?" he coughed. "I assure you, Sigyn, I am no imposter. To prove so, I shall race you from here to the hall of your father."

"Oh, Thor," she begged. "You _should_ know better." Sigyn sharply kicked Gyllir in his barrel, earning a sharp whinny from the stallion. Thor jerked his head away from the dust cloud stirred up from the ground by the stallion's great hooves. He growled deep in his throat before commanding his own steed forward. The God held onto the leather reins for dear life as Lettfeti lurched forward with an impressive force for such a lightweight stallion. Thor's steed strode easily up to Sigyn. He sneered at her, and to his surprise, she met his ferocity of any warrior. The cockiness in her smile was something different, something familiar but not to her.

Thor yanked hard on the reins, nearly slicing the poor stallion's tongue in two. "You are _not_ Sigyn," he accused. The imposter halted in front of Thor with an unyielding, adoring gaze. The grey eyes flickered to rainy blue, and the woman's smile curled slyly upwards to the sky. Her red locks shrunk and curled into never ending gold spires that rested at her shoulder blades. The woman's heart-face was odd with lusty red lips … if he did not remember better Sigyn had a square face? The only woman who had a broken heart for a face was… "Amora," he growled.

She giggled, chuckling in her high pitched, bird-y voice. "Oh, _my_ dearest Thor," Amora said as she unbuckled her chest plate to make room for her breasts. The woman shoved one of her delicate, manicured hands on her hip. "Do not act so angry. Deep down you are thrilled—" She purred the last word. "To see me here with you."

"What the hell do you want?" Thor retorted.

Amora bit her thumb innocently and lightly sucked on the end. "Well, I would love to be your wife," she replied nonchalantly. "But—" And she sighed dramatically, as if she could not stand one more moment of this dull conversation. "If you are inferring as to why I am here as _her_—" Her face wrinkled more than bulldog's in disgust and loathing. "You may thank your father. Which means you are going to ask—"

"Where is Sigyn?" The God hissed through his teeth.

She rolled her eyes. "I do not see why you are so concerned for her. You never even paid her much attention before Loki went madder than Sif when she lost her golden locks to a knife." Amora strode closer to Thor and placed her hand sensually on his thigh. Thor did all he could not to shift uncomfortably out of her grip and grimaced at her. "If I recall, she was not even present at your coronation. The tramp would much rather associate herself with Theoric than a prince. Oh well, it makes sense that she would feel a kindred spirit to the half-breed."

"Answer the damn question!" Thor berated.

Amora dragged her hand up higher on his thigh. "Oh, Thor, so much pent up energy," stated the enchantress rhetorically. "I could relieve that for you."

The God grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her hand away. Amora yelped at the tension built to the point where the fear began to grow that her bones may snap into stardust. "Now, I ask of thee again, Amora, where is Sigyn?" His voice was more urgent, deeper, and dangerously close to a threshold she dared not tread … clumsily.

"Sigyn is gone, to where I know not—"

"Liar!"

"Thor!" Amora pleaded as her hand began to creak and her fingers turning an unhealthy shade of purple. "S-sh-she i-i-i-is on M-m-m-mid-g-g-gard!" she added pathetically. "S-s-s-s-si-si-sigyn disappeared three seasons ago, Thor!" The God's grip lessened on her, though his strong fingers still twitched uneasily. Thor's brows touched one another as his eyes smoldered for more answers. If anything the events following Loki's demise, he had learned that anymore, settling for simple answers wasn't enough. "O-o-or at least I have been told."

"How can she be on Midgard?" Thor hissed. "The bifrost is broken!"

Amora made a pitiful shrug. "I know not, sweet Thor," she muttered like a small, injured child. "All I hear are rumors from Frigga when she confides in Balder. Frigga told Balder so Theoric would cease his worrying by knowing his lover is safe on Midgard."

Thor grumbled, growling really underneath his scruff. "Why would Sigyn abandon her lover, the one she considers her husband, for Midgard?" he inquired through deep, vicious rumbles like distant thunder. "She is a devote lover—"

"But a lover who can never marry the man she loves," Amora said, sounding sympathetic if he heard correctly? Thor's fingers became loose enough she could steal her wrist back and let her fingers nurture the bone bruises he left. She glanced down wearily at her wrist to inspect it for further injuries that lie beyond the skin. "Loki will never let her go for that would be a great insult to him to divorce his wife. Sigyn—"Amora flicked her eyes back to Thor with a deep hurt cut into her irises, but the truth glittered just beyond that.

She sighed, turning the steed around to head back to the palace and soon-to-rise sun. "She left to go to Midgard to protect your silly mortal," she added in a chilling tone. Thor spun his stallion around to keep at a hearty trot with the female trickster. Amora pushed her unyielding hair behind her ear. "Sigyn wishes you not to suffer as she does. She concerns herself with matters that do not involve she but chooses so anyway."

"She went to Midgard to protect Jane?" Thor inquired for his own sake.

"Yes," Amora mumbled. "Sigyn wants you to be with the mortal and marry her because you clearly love _that_ mortal. She wants you to have the chance to marry her because she herself will never have the chance to marry her lover. Perhaps a better way of explaining this is to say she wants to live vicariously through you and the mortal. The only way to ensure you can marry the mortal is to protect her from Loki."

"Sigyn—"

"Her compassion makes her weak," she chided. "But I would not take her act for granted. I imagine it will only be a matter of time before Loki discovers if he wishes to harm the mortal, he shall have to go through his wife." Amora readjusted her reigns so her uninjured, left wrist took more of the beating than her aching, throbbing, reddening, and swelling right wrist. "Then again, perhaps Sigyn will finally have the balls of a boar and stab him in the back with her spear. If she were smart, she would do so."

"Sigyn would never do such an act," Thor battered. "She is much too quiet—"

Amora laughed in his face. "Never has such a statement been an understatement."

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><p>Jane sunk into her chair and stuffed herself further into her blue jacket, staring down Darcy who stuffed her face full of the pancakes. Poor Erik kept running his index finger along the rim of the cup at the anticipation of the Tylenol to take affect. She sighed as she stole a piece of bacon off of her intern's plate to munch on for breakfast. Erik eyed her but said nothing. He had already made his opinion clear this morning when she exited out of the RV in a disheveled mess. Darcy, well, for once hadn't said anything on how her hair hung chaotically out of her loose ponytail, or why she chose to wear a jacket in weather over a hundred degrees.<p>

Erik was one to talk, him being in his old, too old leather jacket and typical, stained white shirt. It was a shocker—no lying—to Darcy that out of the group, she looked the best. Not that she considered that much, being she had thrown on a pair of jeans, a grey and white cami stacked on each other, a brown jacket that hung on her chair, and a cheery brown Eskimo hat.

"So…" Darcy mumbled, trying to pick away at the ice among them. Erik slid his tired over to her, obviously not in a mood to deal with her hectic attitude. She lifted both of her thick brows to stare innocently back at him like she were some perfect angel. "Um," she blabbered. "Anyone else hear that stupid coyote last night?"

"It was no coyote, lass," the old man in the booth next to them commented from behind the newsprint. Darcy spun around with her arm hanging off of the chair and fingers tapping the metal annoyingly. Erik used what little strength he had to suppress a groan. _Damn the old man..._

"Well," she said with a snotty tone to her voice. "What the hell was it then?"

"It was the chupacabra," he chuckled.

"No, really," Darcy said flatly.

"It was!" The wrinkled man—err woman placed the paper down on the table. She couldn't hold back the grimace at the haggardly woman with balding, frayed silver hair wrapped into an unruly braid. "The damn thing dranked all me chickens' blood. I tell you, there be some voodoo at work in these parts." Her sunken, almost pure black eyes suspiciously slid to a woman much younger than herself but older than Darcy sitting across the dinner at a table by herself. "She be the cause of this. Just like 'em white men when they came to the lands," she grumbled. "That 'er showin'ed up and then all 'tis weird happens begin'en."

Jane laughed. "Everything can be explained scientifically," she sneered; the physicist flinched at the bitter chill in her own voice. But, not everything could be explained scientifically, or so Thor had told her. The rain clouds came pouring over her eyes again as her mind drifted to _him_. She sighed again and flopped her head and arms onto the table to hide the depression that came whenever he walked her mind. Instead of her heart leaping for joy, as it had once done, she found her chest heavy and swollen with self-pity and anger for believing a God—a fucking literal Norse God—would come back to a mortal.

"I 'er sayin'," the old hag continued, her voice turning to venom. "T'at gurl be bad voodoo."

"So, you assume she is bad simply because she is new to town?" Darcy asked. She too looked over to the woman. Indeed, for living a sheltered life in government secrecy, the intern still managed to know most people in this town by face; maybe not close, but be at the very least familiar with the face, but this new woman, she had never seen before. The woman must've been around Thor's age if she had to guess, which—well damn, didn't go very far considering Thor was centuries old. But Thor looked to be his late twenties, so… She was about average height at five seven but closer to five nine or ten in her cowboy boots. The woman's pale green, almost grey eyes were concealed in her honey red hair that to the chair and turned into rowdy waves at the ends.

Darcy could not find anything unusual about someone in a pair of rugged, worn in jeans and a white plaid shirt with silver glints to it. She rolled her sleeves passed her elbows and had a worn in, vintage leather belt wrapped tightly around her hips. Hanging from the belt was an old brass ring that had a matt finish to its smooth, soft metal. The woman turned her square head towards them, but oddly, she could carry her strong jaw line with ease and dignity, celebrity star-esque.

"Do not look at 'er gurl!" the old woman chided and slurred, grabbing Darcy by her black hair and yanking her head away. "She be e'bil! Just look at 'er stitches!" She twisted her head again to look, but the old hag's unkempt, dirty brown with yellow spots fingernails dug into Darcy's skin and held her head there with an impressive strength. "I said no look at 'er ebil, woman!"

"I doubt she's evil," Erik said point-black. He looked casually over the woman, who now glared at the old woman. "I think you are making her very angry though. Hell hath no fury like a woman's scorn." He looked to Jane, and she looked to him like she was waiting for him to do something. His sigh came out more like a groan. Erik forced himself out of the chair and across the checkered board floor.

The heated glare that was on the old witch shifted to Erik, and both Darcy and Jane shared that worried look that lasers may come from the newcomer's eyes and tear Erik apart in front of them. He slid into the metal chair across from her and folded his hands together on the table. She reclined back in her seat, sizing and assessing the older man. "What the hell are you doing here, Sigyn?" he hissed underneath his breath.

The Goddess eyes' hovered between utter rage at his poor choice of words and a bitter pain that smelled like rotting fish and stung like alcohol in her throat. She folded her arms across her chest and huffed; all the while, her brows came together in a narrow, vicious point. If he didn't know better, her long hair bristled like the spines of a porcupine.

"I have not all day, Sigyn," Loki spoke through Erik in a bored tone.

Her pale, pink lips curled excruciatingly into a frown. In her next blink, Sigyn's eyes watered from the agonizing pain. He caught the red glimmer from the edge of her lips. To most it would have looked like a drop of V8 juice, but to him—his face softened, empathetic for her situation. Loki's—Erik's hand began to move towards her mouth, but he quickly caught himself, if only because he saw Jane staring wildly at him. He glanced down to the pancakes cut into tiny pieces meant for a toddler. Even then, he saw that at most, she had taken only one bite.

"_That_ bad?" he asked.

Sigyn gave a small, disappointed nod.

Loki looked over her through Erik's eyes. He felt his guard that separated his thoughts from Erik's lower, not by personal choice mind you—the trickster found it hard to concentrate as his eyes roamed over Sigyn. The God made a small reminder he would just have to alter the mortal's mind. The note quickly slipped to the back of his hectic, hardly ever quiet mind. Loki was the type who was _always_ multitasking, and in a very strange sense, focusing only Sigyn a relief and pain. He found his heart hitching up into his throat, beating faster than normal but hardly enough to raise true concern. It was more a surprise at how she had changed.

Oh sure, to mortals she seemed fine; more on the thin side but nothing Hollywood wasn't used to. Loki wasn't from Hollywood and neither was Sigyn. Her face was little sunken and her skin dry to his eyes. He saw the folds just beginning underneath her eyes that would have escaped the notice of Erik if not for Loki. She might has well have been drowning in that top she wore. The belt hung too loose on her sliming hips. The jeans could not hide the skinny legs underneath. Well, to be technical, he could not see through the jeans, but he, having seen her naked before, could easily undress the princess with his eyes.

It was really less perverted than it sounded, but that didn't suppress hearing Erik groan disapprovingly in the corner of his mind.

He pinched his nose and could only imagine the last time was she ate a decent meal. "Why have you not sought anyone out?" Loki inquired gravely, perhaps sounding a bit guilty deep down in his words. "Or are you still convinced this another way to show your supposed strength?"

She arched an eyebrow at his insulting question. Her frown thickened. Not a second later she flinched and bit hard down on her tongue to stop the cry building in her throat. With stumbling fingers, Sigyn brought the white napkin to the raw corner of her mouth. After a few moments, she let out a deep breath to calm herself. She flicked her eyes irritatingly towards him; he was nothing but a parasite in her life. He could easily read her eyes and imagine her poised voice dripping the Vanir dialect as she criticized "Ou _chould_ know abou' unchonven'ional shrengst, Loki. Achually, did 'ou no wri'e 'he schroll on et a' some poin'?"

A fond smile warmed his lips at her funny accent. He leaned forward as if the words had spilled from her mouth and not her eyes. The God found this bizarre that when he thought of her speaking, he heard her accent. She could very clearly, and more often than not, Sigyn spoke with little accent when she put her mind to it. For pity's sake, the last time Loki had overheard her accent—wait, when was the last time he heard her accent?

He snorted. This was no time to get sidetracked! "What the hell are you doing here in Midgard?" Loki demanded in a calm voice, just loud enough to raise concern in Sigyn's eyes but low so Jane nor Darcy could hear. "How did you find your way to this realm?"

Sigyn pulled a pen from her pocket and using a napkin began to jot something down in Norse. She spun the napkin around for him to read the letters: _I have friends in high places. I came to clear my name by protecting Jane for Thor. _Her writing was muddled and to the point. Very clearly she was in no mood for sugarcoated words or long-winded lies. What little patience she had left, was quickly fading. His eyes narrowed on what could have caused her to be so edgy. His presence had never bothered her before…

His mouth twitched, moving from a scowl to a more snooping pull of the lips. "Friends in high places?" he asked curiously; the venom was clear in his strained voice. "Referring to Odin?" His tongue felt like it had just come in contact with soap at his father's name. He wanted to gag and go wash out his mouth.

She shook her head. She scribbled an additional note down on the napkin. His eyes scanned the sentence: _You know not of these friends. _

"Keeping secrets?" Loki asked lightly but the darker was clear.

Sigyn casually shrugged like it was the norm. Her eyes travelled to the pocket on front of shirt that vibrated. He took out the phone to read the message:

_So? Wat is her deal? –Darc_

He glanced unsurely towards the dark haired human and then slid his eyes to Jane before coming full circle on Sigyn. "Then what other secrets are you keeping hidden in that little skull of yours," the God mused. Again, Sigyn always read between the lines and caught the underlying paranoia. She was possibly the only creature in the nine realms aside from Odin who could always call him out on his lies. Even then, Odin was only limited to seeing the truth in his famous sleep. Sigyn wasn't bound by such pathetic restrictions. He could hold a bit of respect for anyone who was quick enough to call him out on his own lies.

Erik stood and bowed before her, placing his wrinkled lips on her hand. "Go back to Asgard and I shall let this little indiscretion slide," he murmured. The mortal's eyes softened to warm goo in the middle. He wasn't a nostalgic person by any means, but this was Sigyn. Somehow, he wasn't quite sure, but her name held some great weight to it. He sighed and dismissed what worth she held to him like she was yesterday's wet newspaper. The sharp edge seized the gooey center and wavered there with the potential for great danger. "And give them the message that none of them are permitted here in my realm, and if they should trespass, then I will have their head fed to Fenrir."

Sigyn stood strongly and proudly in front of him. She may have been peasant by blood, but she held herself with bloated self-worth from the lies of being prepped to be a princess. She gripped her chair, careful not to bend the metal underneath her inhuman strength. Each breath felt as if it was on fire. The edge of her left eye twitched as it did every time someone sought to dismiss her as a child, a woman, and in this case, a messenger. The Goddess shook her head in defiance.

"I hope you are happy then with your fate," Loki chided cynically.

"As I hope you are with yours," she whispered painfully into his ear. The blood again trickled off her mouth and down her chin. But the pain was a small price to pay for worthy words that needed to be spoken.

"I am going to have the time of my life," he purred. The trickster cupped two fingers around her chin and ran a third finger over the soft, delicate skin. As they skimmed over her lip, her heart leaped into her throat, not for joy but fear. His fingers traced over her jaw line and up to her ear. Loki pushed one of her locks behind her ear with much care. A cold shiver ran down her spine at the fond touch. Suddenly she was the one fighting to keep her composure. "Beginning with you."

Sigyn backed away, not daring to turn her back to the one person who would gladly take an easy stab at her heart. "JANE! DARCY!" he yelled. "GET OUT OF HERE! IT'S LOKI!" Erik fell to his knees and held both hands around his neck. "You'll _never _get it, you bastard!" The mortal's eyes rolled into the back of his head as he collapsed onto the ground with blood dripping from his mouth. The audience watched as thick, heavy black threads began to weave over the man's mouth.

She covered her own mouth and felt the threads and wounds being removed and transferred to Erik. Her fingers traced over the smooth ridges of her mouth. The rest of her hand cupped her mouth as Erik struggled to breath. Tinier stitches were sewn into his nostrils. The convulsions started as his body begged and pleaded to take another breath. Sigyn whipped her head around to Jane, but the mortal was unseen in the crowd of scurrying humans.

Loki stood over Erik, unseen by everyone but she. He folded his arms smugly across his chest and marveled at his work through those pale blue, nearly grey eyes. The God had rid himself of any former attire that would have linked him as a prince of Asgard. Loki looked like a pirate with gold trimmings and Aesir weavings that proclaimed him as a rebel, a rogue, someone who chose to go off the deep end with a smile on his face. His black hair had grown longer and messier; the ends were curling. As the last of the humans left, he casually resumed his seat across from Sigyn.

"If I were thee, I would eat, Sigyn," the trickster suggested, pushing the plate of untouched pancakes towards her. "This may be your last meal for a while … or forever." His malicious grin caused her stomach to cringe and lose any appetite she had. "Unless," he deliberated slowly, thoughtfully, and diabolically. "You wish to align yourself with the new ruler of this realm, myself. You can even bring that half-breed Theoric here if you become bored."

She removed her hand from her mouth, once again feeling the lack of heavy stitches binding her upper and lower lips together. She flipped her upper lip up into an unceremonious growl. Sigyn's beat faster than it had in years. The feel of the control of her lips without the pain and suffering—the natural feeling of freedom felt so unnatural. It was the fuel adding to the fire in her lungs. "You suffer from grand delusions, Loki," Sigyn retorted harshly. She thrust the food of the table and listened to it shatter beautifully onto the floor. Loki glanced down at the mess, then stared the angry witch in the eye. "It will take more than a meal to keep me from guarding Jane from your filth."

He shrugged indifferently. "Well, best of luck protecting the mortal from behind jail cells," Loki stated coolly, objectively. He looked to the windows and chuckled as the first of an army of ebon' cars and trucks screeched to ungraceful halts. Sigyn winced as the sound of bullets shattering the windows struck her ears. She ducked down, hands covering head and eyes tightly closed. Like Erik's body, her body convulsed from the disgust he had left inside of her. The first of several tears came streaming down her face from the bottom of her swollen heart. She was beyond thankful that he had disappeared or was out of her line of sight. Sigyn curled her fingers tightly together, imagining Loki's neck was there. But it only increased the feeling of hurt. Worse, she shouldn't even be feeling the hurt. It was stupid but felt so right.

The small cry came out as a harsh, mad, rabid growl. The first words he had spoken to her since Váli's death on his own accord and they were, "What the hell are you doing here, Sigyn?" She rolled onto her back and slammed her hand into the floor. Feeling the tile crack underneath her strength did not relive the pressure growing dangerously. She flung her eyes to the sounds of the feet slapping against the floor.

Loki would pay…


	3. Chapter 3

**Tearing God Asunder**

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><p><strong>AN:** Thank you for the review, Mieschers! Loved it! This update came a little later than I was expecting, but eh, having a professor randomly assigning a paper is part of college.

Oh! You can follow me on tumblr if you want to see fanart of the story.

scrimpy . tumblr .com

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><p>The SHIELD agents had easily, too easily, swept Sigyn off her feet and shoved her unceremoniously into one of the dog crates to ensure she could not escape, or in theory escape. She supposed that she should have fought back, but the Goddess was much too involved in herself to even care for how the mortals poorly handled her. Besides, they were only mortals. They could do no more harm to her than a fly. Well, maybe a <em>bit<em> more…

Sigyn peeked her head up from behind the one-way mirror that encompassed the cylindrical prison. Once again, it was only one-way to mortals. She could still make out the shifting fingers as they fumbled over her lips again for the hundredth time. Every time her skin prickled at the smooth sensation of healthy, fully healed skin there instead of puss, blood, and scratchy scabs. She felt her heart flutter and dance with joy that she had not felt in years. Despite her situation, Sigyn felt weightless like the clouds and _alive_. She reclined her head against the wall, grinning and giggling for all the times she had to restrain that smile in order to avoid the pain, or how she had to mindlessly chew on her words so the blood wouldn't trickle down her mouth at dinner. She squeezed her eyes shut to enjoy the freedom to its fullest content.

There should have been guilt that her freedom came at the cost of a mortal's life. In a perfect world, the Goddess would have mourned for him, but the world was imperfect. The freedom of one person came at the cost of another's life; this case was not different. Sigyn, as she thought back to Erik's heaving body and bloody lips dirtying the dull floor, pondered that of all the deaths the mortal could have suffered, this one was fairly merciful. Humans died so many gruesome deaths, from bleeding or tortured to death to slowly dying of a painful illness that suffocating was in fact sparing him from the true pain of living to be old and withering away from cancer. Indeed, the further she probed, Loki could have made him suffer a fate worse by roasting him alive as a tasty, human treat for Fenrir. The way she thought of it, Erik was a lucky mortal.

Of course, Thor would have been chewing her out, blabbering about how mortals were equal to Asgardians. Sigyn laughed at the thought of Thor's blasphemy. How could he even begin to think humans were equal to them, a divine race? Whatever he had seen in his few days of exile was not what Sigyn had seen in nearly two years of hiding among them. Whatever great compassion they held had either flown over her head or was wrapped in the thorns of miserable short lives. The Goddess held no doubt that humans lived rigorous lives of uncertainty, but they did could not comprehend true sacrifice or actual tests of strength and faith. Nothing that lived and died within a few blinks of her eyes should even boast that they understood true misery and loss. They couldn't feel the scars left from where time had healed the initial wounds, the detatchment that time brought, the guilt the detachment wrought in her bones, and the empty holes that all the "What if" questions left. There was no way they could comprehend the weight of time as she did. They most definitely didn't feel the crushing weight that caused stressful and creacking and creeping cracks in her heart.

"I can see you, mortal," Sigyn commented as the lone shadow began to hustle back and fourth between two objects. She watched as he stopped and turn his head towards her view. Folding her legs underneath her like a lady and raising herself up with boastful, superior pride, the Goddess glared unhappily towards him and twisted her free mouth into a displeased scowl. "I do not reciprocate well when I am considered a pet instead of your superior. I insist you free me from this cavern before dire consequences behead you." Her voice was scratchy and rusty from the lack of use, her last word cracked more than that silly, sentient egg who fell off a wall. The sharpness to her voice was lost in the noise of her strained vocal cords. Each word that came from her throat felt large and odd on her tongue, but like riding a bike, Sigyn assured herself that speaking so boldly would come back to her. All she needed was practice. What a more opportune time than now to practice?

"You are in no position to be making remarks, _Loki_," Nick Fury's voice called through an intercom.

Sigyn stood and strutted like she was walking on air towards the mirror. Nick Fury approached in his black trench coat and plum turtle neck, his features becoming clearer. Her heart sank and wilted like a flower at his face. The mortal looked so similar to her dearest Theoric, only older and darker in color. Well, he lacked the ember eyes her lover held, but they were so similar. She swallowed down a large stone, convinced she was seeing some great descent that was related to her beloved. Too easily, her mourning heart could fill in the black runes on Fury's face and replace his black eyes with the embers. The Goddess reached out and pressed her hand to the cold, unfeeling mirror; her eyes feeling the coming soreness. She narrowed her eyes to sharp needle points aimed towards the mortal. Beneath the glass, her fingers began to curl and shift into an aggravated fist. "I am in every right given to me as your Goddess to make any remarks I so wish to speak," Sigyn hissed.

"Goddess?" he laughed bitterly at her. "I know from legends you are shape-shifter, but I did not believe you would have gender identity problem."

"Say again?" she spat.

"You heard me," Fury spoke flatly. He turned his back to her, a Goddess! Sigyn's hand flew against the mirror, earning her a small sound that sounded close to a crack, but as her eager eyes looked, the glass was intact and withstanding her fury. She breathed out heavily and temporarily clouded the mirror. As the steam faded, Sigyn caught a glance of foul, pale blue eyes staring her down. Taking her fist, she impatiently wipe away the steam. She stood in awe, and the reflection stood in awe back at her. What she saw, was not herself. Sigyn lifted her hand to recall the delicate features that defined a female's hand from a man's, and then her eyes darted to the man's hand that mirrored her every move. The Goddess backed away to watch Loki's reflection do the very same. She bristled, the reflection matching her every action. A deep growl rumbled from her throat, but that was only the smoke from the fire exploding inside of her. It was one thing to put her behind bars, but—but this! Sigyn threw her fist repeatedly at the reflection, gaining a small bit of comfort but only fueling the anger and betrayal inside her.

Oh, Loki had been many, many things, and Sigyn had seen nearly every face he wore, but never would she have guessed him to stoop so low as to challenge her, the Incantation-fetter. She had done nothing to him! _Nothing!_ The next punch left her knuckles bleeding but the physical pain felt good, a release from the fire the God of fire himself had started. The Goddess lifted her hand to inspect the wound before bringing the bloody knuckle to her lips. Whatever truce they had forged, Loki had now broken it. Oh, she may have found forgiveness for him putting her behind bars, but placing a spell to make her appear to be him went _too_ far.

"You try to escape, you so much as scratch this glass," Nick threatened in a deeper, ominous tone. Sigyn flipped her eyes towards him, watching him cower behind a strange glass with symbols embedded into it. He flipped a switch, opening a tiny gap. She turned her head to stare down at Midgard, which seemed very, very far away from up here. "Thirty-thousand feet, straight down in a steel trap."

She twisted her head back to him with a sly smirk growing along her lips. "It's an impressive cage," she mused sarcastically. "But it's not built for me."

Fury watched as she edged towards the gap and curiously stared farther down, almost weighing which consequence was worse, dying from a fall or staying here to be tormented. "It's built for something much stronger than you," he informed in a snappy tone that reminded her too much of Sif.

She narrowed her brows and while her nose scrunched into a furious wrinkles. There was almost a sick satisfaction growing inside her. Oh, how easily the lies came when the opportunity to smear Loki's tarnished name some more was present. "How desperate are you, to call on such lost creatures to defend you?" Sigyn scolded like he was a small child. In her eyes, he was a child to her. Stupid, ignorant child whom so easily fell prey to a little illusion trick by Loki. But his ignorance was only amplified to believe that this cage could even hold the Hulk. How pitiful that this mortal had to hide behind a poor monster with no conscious. She smirked. Loki might have been proud of her for sounding so much like him. If years of silence had taught her anything, it was to listen and observe. Though they led separate lives, she knew his every quirk, just like Thor, Odin, or even Frigga.

"How desperate am I?" he asked, insulted and growling. She raised her brows nonchalantly at him. So much like a little toddler throwing a hissy fit. Sigyn couldn't help but yearn to be the adult to put him in his rightful place. "You threaten my world with war. You steel a force you can't control. You talk about peace, but you kill because its fun… " Fury added, his voice growing faster and angrier. For a moment Sigyn's face softened and melted down into a quick astonishment. Sigyn was too happy that he couldn't see her face. She had heard the rumors through Huginn that Loki had indeed found Odin's lost treasure, but the killing sprees, that was left out. She should not have been shocked considering he was not above wiping out an entire race, but, somehow, she still thought him, for all his cruelty, above Thor for his lack of lust for blood. Seemed like now he was just making up for lost time.

"It burns you to be so close," Sigyn spoke objectively. "To have the Tesseract. To have power. And for what? A warm light for all mankind to share." Wow, never would she have thought that she and Loki shared a common agreement; the power was _not_ meant for mankind. Her stomach twisted over itself from that revelation and spilled its acid into her lower throat. Sigyn winced at the sharp pain. She moved away from the hole and swung her hole body towards him. She leaned against the glass, slouching and crossing his arms across her chest as Loki always did when he confronted someone he considered inferior. The smile melted from her face, becoming grave with the truth. "Allow me to remind you of what real power is." Sigyn cocked her head forward, halfway curious to hear his answer to a threat like that.

"Well, let me know if 'Real Power' wants a magazine or something," Fury dismissed. He stepped down the steps and with it, the little bit of socialization she had had in the better part of far too long.

"You shant leave," Sigyn meaked out. "I am not Loki, mortal; though, I appear to you to be him, I am not. Mortal, please." The last word tasted sour on her tongue when spoken to someone like Fury. But he just continued on his chosen path. The panic rose within, shaking first her legs and then heaving her chest. "_PLEASE!_" she choked on the word. "I can get the Tesseract back into your hands, mortal." Nick stopped and turned his calculating eyes towards her. Sigyn could only hope that maybe through his blind eye, he could see through the illusion. "As we are married, there are supernatural threads that connect us to one another."

"Married?" Fury inquired. "Then which wife are you?"

"His _only_ wife," she corrected proudly. "I am the Lady of Victory, Sigyn of the Njorð."

He stalked back, eyes flickering to the monitor to where the Avengers had assembled and then disturbingly back to her. The mortal folded his arms crossed his chest, holding his head equally as high as her. There was a mixture of a smug and suspicious raise of his brows. "You are also the symbolism for fidelity. Why should I believe you are not loyal to him? For did you not hold a bowl over his head while he lie writhing in bonds composed of your son's intestines?"

Sigyn's nails bit into her forearms. "Let me make clear these lies that humanity has spread about my life," she growled. "I am the wife of Loki but only for foolish reasons, not a single one of which you can call is sprouted from love. I never held a bowl once over his head, nor would I ever since he has tarnished my good name in Asgard. And _my_ sons—" Her head twisted to the side as her neck muscles twitched and strained as they fought to hold her heart in its rightful place, inside her chest, locked away behind a pair of biological bars for none to trespass. But she could not hold back the bloody tears that left her cheeks red and puffy every time her dead children came to the front of her mind. "They were born with a noose around their necks and their breaths stolen from their lips," she hissed through her teeth and tears. "A-a-and Loki, oh, he left me after Váli. We have not been close since, which, since mortals always need a time frame, has been many lifetimes ago for me."

"As much as you would hope that I would believe you, I won't," he stated point blank. Sigyn slouched over, sliding slowly to the floor. The mortal stared uncaringly to her. Then again, Gods hardly cared for humans, why should they care for the Gods? "I have a world to protect. I have no more time for your lies."

"You are calling me, a _holy_ power, a Goddess, a liar?" she stated rhetorically, slowly losing control of her voice as it degraded back down to something that sounded like bad cellphone reception. Her mournful tears took on a fiery hate for this mortal. Sigyn didn't care how pathetic she appeared to him now for she was a Goddess and _always_ above him, no matter how she looked or the situation. "If I am who I say I am, then you are crossing a Goddess? You are then involving yourself in politics that you as a mortal cannot comprehend. Would you dare to have the wrath of Asgard upon Midgard, mortal?"

"I already gave you my answer," he stated again, his voice growing more primitive.

"I am Sigyn, you damn, dirty mor—" she screamed before her voice cut out entirely. Sigyn's hand shot to her sore, aching, raw, and bleeding throat. Fury, she could see him just barely able to hold back a laugh at the situation. She felt as if her body was being torn into two opposing directions and that at any moment, the seams that held the two halves together were about to break. "I ask politely once more, mortal, let out of this bottle," she whispered, her voice softer than a breeze on a cool, spring day. "I shant hold a single discretion against your ignorance."

He knelt down to her level. "Let me tell you a little secret," Fury muttered. "I don't believe in God or Jesus. I have no reason to believe you are anything closer to being a God."

"You are a stupid mortal," Sigyn retorted.

"You have said that many times now," the mortal stated matter-of-factly. "Do you have nothing else to say?"

"I have _plenty_ to say," she answered. "I have been silent for the better part from my late youth till now. My patience is much from my trials, but I refuse to let a mortal, a stupid, arrogant mortal at that, keep me from polishing my name and returning home to my beloved Theoric." The Goddess rose up to the ceiling. "I am the Incantation-fetter, mortal. I am the one who binds and unbinds the supernatural; this science—" She placed a crafty, bleeding hand to the glass. "Is nothing more than incantations understood." She pushed on the glass with her hand. Tiny, petal like cracks appeared, and the harder she pushed, the clearer they became and the softer the glass was underneath her fingers. Sigyn's hand came through as the glass broke into hundreds of blue rose petals.

Nick stumbled back, pulling his gun from his holster hidden underneath his trench coat. He raised the weapon faster than she expected, especially for a mortal. The gunshot rang loudly in her ears and rattled her teeth. The bullet grazed her abdomen, tearing through the flesh and scrapping against her lower most rib. Sigyn's hand shot to the fresh wound, doubling over as the feeling of warm blood bathed her hand. She lifted her head at the sound of the mortal approaching. The barrel of the gun kissed her forehead. The hot metal steel hissed against her skin, the feeling of the burning sent a gasp out from her lungs. He glared down at her like she was the insect about—no was going to squish. "I warned you," he snarled.

Sigyn swallowed down the pain like she had done for years. The Goddess refused to have her strength broken so easily. "As I did you," she barked. "I would be most curious as to see what punishment Odin would bestow upon thee. He is _not_ a merciful God as I am. Look no further than to see how he banished his own flesh and blood without a bat of an eye or the consultation of his wife." Sigyn shifted her eyes towards Steve Rodgers, shadowed by Hawkeye. She weighed them, trying to analyze the worth of their skills based on their posture. Hawkeye, from the way he held his bow and stayed cowered behind Steve was a red sign that he lacked confidence in hand-to-hand combat. The other, Steve, huddled with his shield raised over his chest to protect his most vital organ, the heart. Mortals, _so_ scared of dying... She took a deep, pained breath to slow her heart that threatened the break the soft skin along her neck. "You shall listen to me if I die," Sigyn stated strongly. She flicked her annoyed eyes to Fury. "Then you shall have the Breaker of Worlds and Father of Slaying turning this realm into Jǫtunheimr."

"Nick," Steve spoke calmly. "If he—er, she is saying the truth—"

"I am speaking the truth!" Sigyn hissed venemously.

He paused as she spoke, looking both sympathetic and wearily towards her, then to his superior. "As I was saying, I don't want to burn any more bridges, especially if she can help us re-obtain the Tesseract," Steve spoke cautiously, choosing his words wisely but expecting the worst. He turned his head again towards her and dared to look her in the eye with respect. Hawkeye's rolling eyes didn't escape her notice, but Steve's restrained behavior sparked an interest. "If we take a minute to breath, we could all think clearly then."

"I shall need more than a minute," she grumbled. The Goddess took her hand away from the wound to show him the blood hand.

"Sir?" Steve asked hesitantly.

"_No_," Fury barked. His finger trembled on the trigger. "We have no proof that he is anything but himself. I will not gamble the world simply on words."

"I will vouch for her," he countered quickly. Both Fury and she shared the same, dumbfounded expression pulling against the tense, hot muscles. Steve approached slowly but with confidence in each stride. Sigyn stood her ground as he hovered over her. He shoved his shield onto his back before allowing his hand to graze along her back and coax the Goddess into his arms. "After all, is it not innocent until proven guilty?"

"If you're a citizen of the United States," he bickered.

"I am one," Sigyn commented. "I have papers to prove my citizenship."

"Papers that have been forged, no?" She was silent, biting viciously on her tongue like a mad cow. Fury lips quivered between a smirk and a deep, scathing snarl. "You are an illegal alien; thus, you are subjected to a military trial—one where you are guilty until proven innocent. However, as you are not human, you _don't_ have _any_ basic human rights."

"How do you know?" Steve inquired. His voice was testy, but he kept his face calm. "You never tested one of them to see if they qualify as human."

"I am _not_ mortal," she stated.

"You're asking for a genetic test?" Fury inquired.

Steve nodded. "Of course. No one has done a genetic test on them before, right?" His superior was silent, giving away the answer. "You already did," he stated.

"We were able to get a hold of Thor's blood and test it during his time here," he enlightened. "They are not human by any means."

"Tis true," Sigyn complied to the agent's astonishment. "Mortals are the only beings in the nine realms who are not the children of Aurgelmir. Mortals were created from the magic spun by Odin, Lóðurr, and Hœnir."

"He would know," Fury sneered.

"Please," Steve beseeched. "She can aid us." He looked down at her but not in the same fashion as Fury; no, more like searching for answers and that connection of trust. Sigyn's face softened at the compassion he showed to her. She breathed out and nodded. A small but all-too happy smile graced his lips. The Goddess leaned farther against him, wrapping her arm around him to better support his agonizing weight.

"How?" Fury asked bitterly, wanting more clarity.

"Should I tell you the secrets of an Æsir marriage, I shall no longer be bound like Fenrir, regarded as a trickster, or thought of as an inferior being for I am a Goddess; therefore, I am always above mortals," Sigyn proposed. Her head leaned forward, hanging almost limply. Her eyes strained as they wished to roll back into her head and give into to weakness spreading through her body. "In return, I expect to be paid with your fidelity and unrestricted access to the lady called Jane Foster."

"Why Jane?"

Her eyelids fell over her eyes, unable to stay up any longer. The blood trickled out of her face, drying up just as fast as the tears on her face. "There are those who would seek to send Jane away to Helheim because she is a distraction to Thor. While Thor is distracted, Asgard is threatened by war from the new king of Jǫtunheimr. Those feelings of anxiousness are made worse when the many worry Loki shall return to seek revenge against all those who have wronged him in his life. Should Asgard fall, many other realms that are in alliance with king of Asgard shall also fall.

"I have taken the burden upon myself to keep Jane safe so Thor need not worry for her safety," she continued on, her voice growing weak like her knees. "I shall do so to clear my name and be free of any associations with Loki. Should I succeed in my quest, I may return home to my beloved Theoric and the Vanir." She paused to take in several deep, painful breaths that shot more blood out of the wound with each heavy heave. "I have an equal stack in this situation as you, mortal."

"Hmmm," he mused. Fury stepped back but never let his backstabbing eyes leave her paling body. "You can retrieve the Tesseract?"

"I am the Lady of Victory," Sigyn snickered.

"Very well," the mortal agreed. Fury slipped his gun back into its little home beneath his coat, but his hand remained on the handle. "Bring back the Tesseract, and I will consider you innocent." He stalked towards the door where Hawkeye ducked out of her sight to avoid his superior. "But—" He twisted his head over his shoulders to give her one last meaningful, dodgy glower. "Prove me right, I will not hesitate to kill you."


	4. Chapter 4

**Tearing God Asunder**

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><p><strong>AN:** Didn't expect to crank this out in one day...

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><p>"You should not test Nick. He has a woman's temper," Steven warned. He sat beside Sigyn's cot while Bruce Banter, dressed in sloppy khakis, an old t-shirt, flimsy jacket, and surgical gloves carefully attended to the wound. The Goddess remained still on the cot, only twisted her face and hands when the mortal's hands would become too rough on the flesh wound, but she had yet to complain of the pain. Steve was thankful for the small room was perfect for becoming noisy, especially on the occasions when Tony happened to become the human shield when Bruce's Mr. Hyde decided to come out and play. To his own surprise, Tony could not tolerate pain to save his life. Half of it Steve suspected was to gain more attention; the other half he believed was genuine. The super human let out a deep breath and smiled nervously. He had suspected she was much like him, where the medicine burned off too quickly to offer an comfort as her nails pulled angrily at the white sheets. Like him, she dealt with what she had been given.<p>

"I am at the mercy of the tempers of women every day I wake," Sigyn spoke matter-of-fact, but she failed to hide the strain in her voice. She rolled her head to him before her bottom eyelids swelled as Bruce scratched against a sensitive nerve. "He does not frighten me. He is _only_ mortal." Her breath hitched in her throat as the needle pierced her skin.

"Sorry," Bruce commented underneath his breath. "Your skin is very thick. Its hard to get the needle through it." He shoved harder into the skin, trying to break through to the other side. He chuckled when the gleaming side of the needle came through. "I may be here all day at this rate," he joked lightly. The scientist peered over to look at Sigyn's sickly green but overall ghostly pale face. "Hate needles?"

"No," she stated bluntly. "I have been at their mercy many times when I sew the holes in the shirts of Theoric. My body is weak. My last meal has been too long ago. That meal was hardly suiting for Huginn."

"Why didn't you eat more?" Bruce asked bluntly.

Sigyn rolled her head towards the other mortal. She took a deep breath, exhausted to the point where even her bones no longer felt tiredness, just the need to rest. "Those stitches sewn into the lips of the mortal had been_ mine_," she told. "I bore the burden since I blossomed into a respectable adult; however, Loki saw fit to take away _my_ burden." Her emphasis was strong but somehow lost, like wondering where her burden, her purpose had gone. She breathed out slowly as the mortal threaded the needle through her skin again. The sting could only fill a small portion of the hole blasted through her heart. No amount of threads could sew that wound shut.

"What a way to be nice," the scientists scoffed.

Steve sat, hands folded in each other, arms resting on his thighs, listening intently to the conversation. "So he took away your stitches for no reason?"

"No, everything Loki does he does for a reason," Sigyn enlightened boredly. "He does not believe you can simply do an act without some purpose. Deep down, he believes everyone in the nine realms is just as mistrustful, deceitful, and calculating as he is. In his later years till now, Loki will act if by doing so helps him to accomplish his own self-interest. He saw an opportunity of a chance to sway me to his side."

"And you said?" Bruce inquired; the worry in his voice came rushing through.

"If I had told him I would join him in his mad conquest, I would _not_ be here," she elaborated.

"You know what he is going to do?" Steve questioned.

"He plans are to rule this realm and make this realm his home for he has no other place to call home," Sigyn said sullenly. "This is the very tragic truth."

"You _sympathize_ for him?" Steve asked blankly.

"No," she answered curtly. The sharp tone caught Bruce off guard for a moment. "I sympathize for _no one_, but I can _empathize_. I have always been empathetic for the cause of Loki. I shared a rare understanding that left Odin jealous and Frigga seeking my advice." She closed her weary, scratchy eyes, which felt all _too_ good. A sense of peace came to her in her next breath. "Loki is still in the wrong but as is Odin. If I must be frank, I am caught in a puzzle for both Loki and Odin are in the wrong; however, what makes the other a lesser evil?"

"I constitute taking over a realm a great evil," the super human said flatly.

"Many others would argue Odin has done the same," Sigyn argued. "For Odin in his youth sought war against the Vanir. He traded his own blood-brother to solidify peace, and when Njǫror begged Odin to allow him to bring his sister, his lover, his forever mate, Odin damned him for considering his sister to a lover. Odin, who would go on to slay his father's father. He, who slayed the son his of blood-brother, Laufey. The very son of whom Laufey and his wife had named after him, Helblindi. He betrayed his blood-brother before taking _not_ his but _her_ son without permission, Loki. As insult to injury, he turned that son against his own people, his own brother, while proclaiming this is all in the name of peace." Her voice grew stronger, angier, edgier with each word. Sigyn felt her confidence rise higher. The pain of the needle only fueled the fire. "When Loki sought to destroy the land of the Jötunn, Odin said he was wrong. But how could Loki had been wrong? For was that not what his father had preached to he and his brother his _whole_ life?" She flicked open a single eye to watch Steve's cool, unjudging reaction. "Loki, I genuinely believe he forgave Odin for not telling him about his heritage. Loki could justify _that_ action, perhaps even be grateful. But when Odin told him he was wrong for wanting to destroy the Jötunn, that is when Loki lost faith in Odin. For such words meant his entire life was then a lie. Why should Loki stay in a place full of lies?

"But Loki, as I have told either of you already, is _wrong_. He is following the same path as Odin, and thus, his hate is turning him into that which he despises the most," Sigyn continued to explain, even though she was desperately tired of the subject. The weight of each word compounded onto her heart and stressed the fractures already creeping. Worse, she found her own doubts about Asgard growing strong, hearty roots inside her mind. Sigyn hated the feeling for she had sworn to never question her loyalties or whether Gods and Goddesses were truly capable of love. The idea that perhaps they, the rulers of the nine realms, could not love scared the shit out of her. "Loki no longer cares what we think of him for we are all full of lies. As Asgard could not accept him for who he _could_ be, he shall become what they will accept him as and earn their respect and their fear through the means as a malicious trickster and murderer. He will carry that into his reign on Midgard..."

"_Wow_," was all Bruce could mutter.

Steve was silent for a few moments, eerily listening to the pull and tug as the unstable scientist threaded through the last stitches. "He must care what you think if he asked for you to join him," he added. Sigyn looked thoughtfully over to him. She had the need in her eye for him to explain more. "Loki does not care what Asgard thinks, but clearly, he does not consider you part of Asgard."

She smiled approvingly at him; the first genuine smile he had seen on her face. By God, or Gods, her smile was so innocent, playful, and child-like. "Yes, he must then, but why I would not have the slightest of ideas as to why," Sigyn countered neutrally.

"You're his wife," the scientist said as he tied the last knot. "That's more than enough reason."

The Goddess laughed loudly. "Married we are, but we do not act like husband and wife. We never were husband and wife to each other, not that the mortals would know," she sighed; her voice dropped back down to soft, calm whisper. "For you see, I married Loki for several reasons. The first being that I wished to remain in Asgard without sacrificing my title—but looking back, that was foolish for me to think that way. If I had met Theoric sooner, I would not have married Loki." Her smile was one of regret and realization. "The strongest reason I chose to marry him is so that I would not be like Freyja, unhappily married for the rest of my life. Freyja had told me not long before Loki proposed, that to marry a good friend is a better bet than marrying a stranger. And Loki wished to marry me so he could prove to Odin that he was a responsible son. This was one of his last, desperate plans to prove to Odin that he was better choice for the throne than Thor.

"And so we married and had two sons; both of them were born cold. After our second, I was horrid. I grieved all day and ate little. I became nothing more than a slender twig plucked from a dying tree. Loki kept away from me, for which I cannot find fault. I would not have been beside me if I were me," she said, anxiously laughing out the last bit. "Theoric found me one day, about a season after, in the gardens. He held me there in his arms while I cried into his shirt till the sun fell from its high perch in the sky to below the horizon. After that day, Theoric came into my life. He built me back up and proved to be more of a husband than Loki. I fell for him and he for me.

"Loki and I, we simply grew apart. We spoke little to each other in those days. Eventually, I enlisted Amora, a fine enchantress, to pose as me in the palace. This freed me from my responsibilities as a princess. I lived with Theoric under the roof of Balder and his wife Karnilla, Queen of the Norns. This was many seasons before the meant-to-be glorious day of Thor," Sigyn finished.

"You haven't talked to each other?" Bruce asked.

"I _tried_," Sigyn admitted. Her strong voice cracked again and reduced it to nothing more than a child's whisper. The fire from her hate died as the water from her tears bubbled to the surface. "I tried many times after I fell for Theoric. I wished to divorce Loki, but every time I went to him, he would immediately leave or already be gone. I even wrote him a letter one time and left it for him on his pillow. He never wrote back or said any word to what I had written. He ignored me. I want nothing more than to be freed from him. For years I have been considered my own separate entity, but now, I find myself being guilty by association because I married Loki. It has come to the point when I venture outside, I fear for my life. The only way to prove my innocence is to prove my loyalty to Thor by protecting his love, the lady Jane Foster. If I can win the loyalty of Thor, I will win the loyalty of Asgard. I may return then to my dearest Theoric and our life. I desire nothing more than to be happy once again."

"_Great_," he commented sarcastically. "Now we're all involved in your politics." Bruce stood up and took the leftovers from mending the wounds over to the trashcan.

He reached out to touch her hand. "Forgive him," Steve added quickly. "Bruce isn't too big on being involved in anything." He glanced down at his hand and moved to take it away, but Sigyn's fingers curled around his hand. He let his hand rest there in her grip. He looked unsurely to her; however, smile on her face brightened his own heart. Steve warmly smiled back a silent thank you.

"You've seen what he can do," the scientist countered. He glared over his shoulder first at Steve and then with more worry at the Goddess.

"I know of your condition already," she said with a pleasant smile. "There is no need for secrets, Bruce Banter. We are on the same side for now."

"_For now_," he scoffed. "You thinking about running off with Loki?"

"No," Sigyn said. Her voice cracked in the middle of the word. Bruce grinned and chuckled. The Goddess took it well, smiling bigger back at him. "There is no certainty we shall always be allies. Gods and mortals often clash. Very rarely do we both wish for the same prize; though when we do, the other realms should tremble."

Bruce peeled off his gloves and placed his hands underneath the frigid water to clean them. "Fair enough," he replied.

"So," Steve mused as he switched the conversation. He licked his lips nervously like a young boy did when a girl flustered him. "You made the comment that you haven't eaten. Would you care to join us?"

"If my clothes were not stained with my blood, I would," Sigyn answered honestly.

Bruce walked back to the bottom of the cot. "If you do not mind dressing like a guy, I'll lend you some of my clothes."

She laughed.

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><p>Thor had originally thought to take this matter to his father and headed to have word with him, but his feet had a different idea. They guided him through the halls to his mother's chambers where she would spin the threads all day and try to read them. Any more, his mother spent her days avoiding Odin and submersing herself into the future. She was desperate these days from what Odin had said. She spun faster and farther into the future, searching for the day when her lost son would come wandering home into her arms. Frigga's threads were sloppy and tossed together. She was not concerned about the details. The queen was far more focused on skimming to find <em>that<em> day... if it even existed. Her doubts were beginning to show. Frigga had always been fond of beige and browns, but now her clothes were darker, more mournful. She let her silky hair fall over her beautiful face to hide her red eyes. She was as broken as the bifrost with edges sharp enough to draw blood.

"Mother?" Thor called as he stuck his peeping head into the doorway.

Her eyes didn't waver from the threads as she replied, "Yes, my son?" Frigga drew her sore and injured fingers over the threads at the same pace her eyes scanned them.

He stepped lightly into the room, careful not to trip over the yarn, the threads, and strange, odd woman-things that she used when crafting her beautiful master pieces. Thor could only think of this like a dance; which, for the record, he never got quite a hold on dancing. Oh he had great feet that were light from his years of battle, but the God could never quite keep count with the music. Then again, he never found use for numbers, other than recounting how many heads he had torn from his enemies' shoulders. "I mean to have word with you on the matters of Sigyn," Thor spoke. His mother immediately torn her eyes from her threads to look solemnly to Thor. His mother's face became as taught as the skins strung over a drum; where even her grave lines from age disappeared. He sat down on a chair next to her and folded his arms in between his legs. "You have the answers I desire," he stated rhetorically.

Frigga sighed as she put her needles down on her lap. She was silent for some time, organizing her thoughts from the deep, far-off look in her warm, honey eyes. "You must be wondering how Sigyn is on Midgard, and why you are still here in Asgard," his mother began. She let out another deep breath as her eyes settled not on Thor; she didn't want to look at her son and feel resposible for adding more grief to his already mountain-high misery. "Sigyn is a very special lady, Thor. She is the last of her—" Frigga chewed on her bottom lip for a second as she mulled over the correct term to use. "Cult would be the best word in these times. But she is the last, which is incredibly tragic. Yet... she becomes all the more valuable." She flicked her eyes to Thor for the first time. "Sigyn is a Citizen of the World Tree, which means no matter where she wanders, she has citizenship there, from here to the far reaches of Jötunheimr and beyond."

"How can this be?" Thor inquired. "Asgard and Jötunheimr are enemies. You cannot possess citizenship here and also there."

"She is _the_ exception," Frigga reinforced. "As a Jötunn, she naturally became an enemy—"

"A _Jötunn_?" Thor exclaimed. "She_ too_?"

Frigga ran her hand over the side of her face; the weight of the lies that complicated their family were wearing on her. "Yes, she is not of Aesir blood, but that should be no surprise. Sigyn obviously is not of Vanir blood by her appearance. She is far too light skinned and broad in the face to be among them. She is beautiful nonetheless for a lady, my son."

"How is she here?" Thor demanded. "She is a Jötunn—an _enemy_."

"Sigyn is _not_ an enemy to realm," Frigga stated forcefully, defensively. "She is a devote citizen to _each_ realm, regardless of _our_ politics, Thor. She is not a warrior but a peacekeeper, the last peacekeeper among the nine realms. She, in her own right, is as powerful as your great father. When she speaks, all that are wise will listen. Allfather regards her highly and requests she come to every council and pass her own judgement on the matter."

"But Amora has been impostering Sigyn, Mother," he ratted out like a little boy.

"I know, my son." Frigga squeezed his hand to reassure him. "I was the one who told Sigyn to find an enchantress who could pose as her."

Thor's face came together in confusion; his lips pursing, cute nose crinkling, brows brushing each other, and ears perking up. "You gave her the idea? Why in all that is gold in Asgard would you do that, Mother?" he asked, so very lost.

"Because my son this palace has become her cage," she explained wearily. "She needed to be freed and allowed her happiness while she is still young. Regrets should only be for the old like me." She gave that nervous laughter that failed to lighten the mood. "So, I proposed that unless summoned to council, she let Amora take over for her. Sigyn became much happier. Amora was happy too for she was able to adore you much more." Frigga grinned, just as she did every time she could probe into either of her son's love life. He groaned. Some things never quite changed...

"That does not explain how she is in Asgard and with citizenship," Thor reminded.

"That is a story she has not told me, my son," the Goddess confided. "Nor one your father is willingly to tell. I fear that story is one that would make Heimdall shed a tear." He released a tensed breath as he hunched farther over to stare hard at the ebon' marble. "I know that before she came to the Hostage-king and long before the war with Jötunheimr, she had achieved citizenship within every realm, including Asgard."

"You mean to tell me Sigyn is—"

"Yes, Sigyn is older than either of you," Frigga confirmed. "Jötunn do not age like the Aesir, unless magic is involved. They age much less than us. Laufey had barely aged from the time of the last war till his death. For them to age takes generations upon generations for us. They do so unless magic is involved. I have no doubt that Sigyn was alive before you, before your father, or even your father's father. Look no further than Surtr the Swarthy One. He is the eldest being in the nine realms, the only one who has even begun to grey. So for Sigyn to still be a youngling by the time she came into the arms of Njord is very likely, my son."

"Why would father send her to Njord instead of keeping her like he did Loki?" Thor inquired seriously.

"Citizens of the Tree are objective and peaceful. They are the ones who people sought out for wisdom; which included Odin when he was young. Who better to instill those values than the Hostage-King of the Vanir, the peaceful and wise people? They are the ones that can bring victory to whichever side they see fit. They have decided whole wars in the past to end the bloodshed sooner and spare the innocent. They did so with every war, save for the last."

"Why did they not bring victory to the last war?" he probed further. "Why all of a sudden let the bloodshed run rampant?"

Frigga's lips sunk into a sorrowful frown. "Because of all the trials one must go through in order to obtain citizenship and become a Citizen of the Tree, only the Jötunn live long enough to obtain it. When your father began the war against Laufey, he made it a blood war; that included all Citizens of the Tree." She looked away to the deep, dark shadows the fading sunlight casted upon the walls. The gold glimmered back the bloody red fall of the sun. The Goddess closed her eyes to darkness creeping within. "They all fell into the hands of Hel."

"Save for Sigyn," he muttered.

She slowly nodded. "Yes, save for Sigyn," Frigga repeated softly so wandering ears would not hear. Thor squeezed her hand this time, sensing the shadows were getting the best of his mother. She smiled towards her son with a bit more light in her eyes. "As she is a Citizen of the Tree, I sent her originally when your father banished you. I knew of anyone, she would know of people, enemies to us, that would help her reach Midgard without the bifrost and without breaking the decree of your brother. She did so willingly because she knows the burden a mother has when their children are absent from them. She wished not for me to mourn my son as she had to for both of hers."

"Now she is on Midgard with Jane..."

"Yes, she is. Sigyn does not wish for people to suffer fates similar to her own," The queen spoke. "Her compassion should not be taken for granted. She has no obligation to be involved in personal affairs. So when she chooses, she does for great reasons. Without Sigyn, Jane would not be alive. You are in her debt, my son." She held her head high and proud while running a hand through her son's hair many times. Just like a mother to still groom her son at all the wrong moments. Thor bit his tongue and smiled at her affection. Her heavy hand came to rest on his meaty shoulder. "I expect you will pay her well."

"_How_?" he asked helplessly.

"Convince the people of this realm she is one of us—welcome her back here, despite her marriage," Frigga stated. "Praise her for her duties as the Mother of the Gods. Celebrate her. If you have a daughter, honor her by naming that daughter after her. If your firstborn is a daughter, proclaim that daughter as heir to the throne. Fulfill what she wishes were true in Asgard. And when she speaks, listen to her. When people criticize her, stand beside her. Be her better brother, just as you are brother to Loki."

Thor wrapped his arms around his mother, and she melted against him. "I shall do so, Mother," he assured securely. His mother kept there in the embrace just as she did when he was troubled as young lad. He didn't mind it. Thor felt his own heart and worries calm and wash away. "I love, Mother," he whispered through a grin into her ear, like he was telling some super, ultra, SHIELD-worthy secret.

"I love you too, Thor," she said boldly, not afraid to show a bit of a mother's love. Thor slipped through her embrace and carefully placed both of his mother's hand back into her lap. For as fierce as his hands could be, they could also be as gentle as a lamb's wool to a person's skin. "And Thor," she asked before he left. "Most important of all, bow to her, just as King Laufey did when she was but a small child."

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><p><strong>AN:** So what did you think? Yay? Nah? Other? Feedback is always loved and helps me to write!

Well, off to do a college paper!

Cheers!


	5. Chapter 5

**Tearing God Asunder**

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><p><strong>AN:** I did not mean for this update to come this quickly. Especially with college papers and such...

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><p>Steve kept his back to Sigyn while she changed; his cheeks were burning chilli pepper red from just being in the same room as a woman who was changing her clothes. He couldn't see anything, with him awkwardly studying the boring wall to pass the time. In today's society, most would have thought it silly for to be considering this taboo. He thoroughly enjoyed women, but rarely was he ever left alone with one. That wasn't how he was raised, and no amount of Stark ragging on his dinosaur-age conducts would ever erase his morals. He began to wonder if he and Stark would <em>ever<em> see eye-to-eye. Steve conflicted with just about every member on the team because of his generational tendencies. He was fine with Stark, considering Coulson and just about everyone ended up being rubbed the wrong way to some degree. Clint, well, was Clint, and he was Coulson's love-sick puppy. Natasha was pleasant. She and Ms. Pepper were practically sisters. And Bruce was neutral in the matters; if only because he tried to avoid social contact as much as possible.

He concluded they were a rather disorganized team...

It was a miracle someone hadn't died already.

Now that Steve thought about it, he wondered how it was that no one was dead.

"You can turn around," Sigyn commented. She scooted to the edge of the cot. Steve had seen Peggy dressed as a man, but at the very least, her clothes were tailored to a feminine body. The Goddess before him was beautiful, but in those dreary clothes, she looked more like a rag. Of any of them, Bruce was the smallest. Okay, until he went all ape-shit on the world. Still, the red t-shirt was baggy on her; enough so that it would not bother the stitches. Why on Earth Bruce had given her a pair of black basketball shorts to wear he couldn't imagine. Surprisingly enough, Sigyn had turned down the shoes and socks, saying she loathed the useless things. Steve found the most awkward thing to be was that she stilled appeared as Loki in his going-rogue Asgardian gear. All the clothes Bruce had given her, he could not see.

He bent down to wrap his arm underneath her knees and the other to support her back. "Well, maybe Tony won't jump on you like this," Steve said optimistically. "He tends to like his women who look like women." Sigyn giggled while she wrapped her arms around his neck for additional support. The super soldier easily lifted her up and carted her out of the room and down the halls towards the common room for all of the Avengers. He tried to ignore how her outward appearance seemed and continued to tell himself he wasn't holding a man but a woman who looked like a mad man. "Try not to let him get underneath your skin. He is rude to _everyone_."

"So I have seen," she answered.

"You have?" He asked lightly but all the same surprised.

Sigyn nodded. "I have been here for some time, Steve. I watch the news every day. More often than not, Tony Stark is on there in some form or another."

"Yeah," he grumbled.

"I see a lot of Loki in Tony Stark," she commented. Steve's confused eyes searched her own. "I am not saying Tony Stark is Loki, but they have similar attributes."

"Don't tell him that," he said, almost begging.

Sigyn smirked. "I know how to bite my tongue," she assured. "I am criticized more often for holding my tongue _too_ long." The Goddess laughed before sighing. She leaned against him and folded her arms cozily over her chest. For being a super soldier, Steve felt soft like clay underneath her; easily sculpted into a new ally. "What have you?"

He shrugged the best he could with her weight in his arms. "I'm near the point of giving up," Steve admitted. "I'm too old-fashioned, but everyone my age is old now. I really feel out of place."

"Too old?" Sigyn mocked lightly. "I am well older than you, and I am _not_ old-fashioned."

"Sorry," he apologized. "You don't look old, so its easy to forget you are an immortal." And a woman he wanted to add.

"You do not look your age either," she complimented. Steve blushed, nearly running into the door. Sigyn's hand shot around his neck once more. She buried her head into the crevice between his shoulders and neck. He swerved and twisted on his heels to maintain his balance, but like a cat, he wouldn't fall. He landed with his back against the wall and safely on the other side of the door. Sigyn peeped her head out from his shoulder. His eyes met hers briefly before laughter came echoing out of their mouths. "You are good on your feet," she added kindly.

"Thank you, uh, Ms. " he stuttered.

"Lady Sigyn," the Goddess answered.

"Thank you, Lady Sigyn," Steve corrected. "I didn't think going to dinner would be a life or death adventure."

"And I never thought I would return to Midgard," Sigyn jested. "Funny how the Fates toy with our threads."

He began to walk once more; though, the super soldier was more focused on not having another run with the door frame. "Threads?" he asked. "I don't know much about Norse mythology. I grew up in a very strong Christian home."

"Consider yourself blessed you did not read any of the poems," she replied disgustingly. Sigyn ran her hand dramatically over her face, wishing to unto the evils she had read. "I fear the poems the humans wrote about us are the ending message to a long game of telephone."

Steve laughed loudly. "Never knew you had a sense of humor."

"You best not tell anyone!" she teased.

"Playful, aren't we?"

"Indeed," Sigyn confirmed in a low, taunting voice. "I am the one who has rekindled the innocence of youth in many kings. As such, the poems cite me as a child. I am quite fond of that adjective. For you see, kings of all realms will fear men and women equally, but they shall never fear a child. That was one reason why my father sought to make me a Citizen of the Yddrasil by the time I was still young. I was able to become a great friend to a great king." She sighed longingly. "He claimed me to be his greatest friend."

"You miss him?" Steve asked; though, this was meant more as a statement to the tone of her voice.

"I wish I missed him," she replied. "But missing implies that they are alive. No, I lost my greatest friend to my husband, Steve." Sigyn took in a deep breath to quell her quivering throat before she lost her voice permanently. "I feel that had I _not_ held my tongue for so many years, I might still have had my greatest friend to write to at night."

"I know its not much a comfort, but I've had a similar experience," he offered. His own voice became softer, almost like a whisper. "Not because I um, kept quiet. Well, to be fair, I was quiet, but only because I was frozen in ice."

"Frozen in _ice_?" Sigyn begged differently.

Steve nodded bitterly. "Up until about five months ago."

"Mortals do not live, cannot live in ice," she argued.

"I'm _not_ a regular mortal," he spoke; a hint of pride seeped into his words. "I used to be a scrawny lad, about as thick as a twig. I was a pathetic excuse for a man. Every time I tried to join the army, I was turned down because I was unfit. But Dr. Abraham Erskine decided to give me a chance to prove myself. He gave me a serum to change me into this." Steve looked down at himself; the glint of admiration for the doctor's work was still burning brightly in his young eyes. "He said something about having derived it from something."

"A Jötunn."

"What?" he asked genuinely.

"He derived his serum from a Jötunn," Sigyn repeated while making herself clearer. "A Jötunn is a nature spirit; also called a giant. They embody all the strengths of the tree and are able to adapt to the extremes and everything in between. That is why you live, Steve."

"So I'm one of you now?" he chuckled.

"No," she said dryly. "Though I am curious as to where they would have gotten Jötunn blood."

He again made a pitiful shrug. "Maybe there are a few Jötunn here on Earth?"

The goddesses snorted at his idiocracy. "I have doubts. The only Jötunn that ever came to Midgard were the best men of Laufey. Each and everyone was driven back to their homelands. After the fall of Laufey, Odin severed their connection to the other realms," she told. Her words became graver but curiouser. Sigyn's eyes became absent as she retreated into her rampant thoughts.

"Maybe from their last visit?" Steve suggested.

She shook her head. "No, Jötunn blood does not stay good for long," Sigyn countered. "The blood would have had to come from one that is alive." She looked grimly to Steve, just as confused as he was; probably more confused since she understood the situation better. "Your healer, is he alive?"

"No." Short, sweet, and to the point; just how Steve liked it when he thought back to his friend.

"Then would you do me a favor?" she asked.

"Why me?"

"You have permission to go through the records and track down any close friends or family he held," Sign enlightened. "One of them may know where the Jötunn is hiding on Midgard. I greater suspect your governing body knows of the Jötunn and keeps a diligent eye on him."

"I'll try," Steve said, not about to make another promise he might break. "If we make it through the night." His eyes narrowed down as Tony's booming laughter, followed by Pepper's criticism rumbled off the sleek metal halls. Sigyn tightened her fingers in her shirt as she felt his tension grow through his tightening grip. They both wearily looked to each other, questioning whether or not they wanted to walk through the valley of death tonight.

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><p>The dank cave seemed endless in the dark. Each step Loki took felt insignificant, but worse, the uneven terrain was wearing on his burning feet. The heat from the magma inches behind the walls had the sweat pooling in his chest cavity and swishing around in his boots. Typically he would have gotten rid of the horrible boots, just as he did at every given opportunity when he used to reside in Asgard. He had developed the habit from Sigyn because she swore on her fidelity that her father had the most beautiful feet in all the land because he never wore shoes. In turn, she had never worn shoes unless absolutely required. Sigyn never complained when she did have to wear them, but there was this discomfort on her face and lack of grace in her stride. But it all came back to the fact that Sigyn had told him to take off his shoes that he did not do so now. It was foolish and now beginning to hinder his quest.<p>

He half snarled from the side of his mouth. Loki gave in and bent over to free his grimy feet from drowning to death. He had tried to so hard to to break himself of the habits he had adopted from her as a means to cleanse himself. There were simply some habits that didn't go down without fighting, and even fewer habits, like the shoes, Loki could _never_ seem to break. The God always seemed to come back to them, just like Sigyn. He sighed before abandoning his shoes to keep walking along the mossy, fungy, disgustingly squishy black and green snot on the ground. In front of him glowed a bubble that a child might have blown with a fire breathing inside its shiny, flimsy shell. The light was his visible reminder of some of the childish sorcery he had gained from Sigyn.

Of course, she was the one who took his complicated spells and stripped away their complexity to reach the core of their intent. The Goddess had made his spells so simple that Thor could have comprehended them. He was not surprised since the Vanir valued simplicity, and she, being of their culture, boasted that around more than Freyja did her sexuality. His pace quickened at the very thought of the Goddess with flaxen locks that dragged along the ground and veiled her entire body. She was a beautiful lady with supple curves like a sow, but she had a long, pointed face that reminded him of an oval that lacked curved lines. He hated Freyja, or as Sigyn called her Mardöll, even more these days because of how much that rotten Goddess reminded him of Sigyn.

He had no doubts that Heimdall thought the whole situation funny because he was the Theoric to Freyja. There was no secret that the gatekeeper was Freyja's favorite lover. But the situation was different than his own. Freyja was loyal to Óðr and nearly drowned herself in her tears every time her dearest husband fled to some where other than her side. No, oddly enough, Freyja really only came to Heimdall when she desired a lover that would satisfy her in a different way than her husband. That was all Heimdall would ever be, a lover. He could never replace Óðr. She would be breaking a taboo in the Vanir culture if she ever considered Heimdall more than a lover. Their culture did _not_ condone married spouses from having lovers; the culture _very_ much embraced the idea that a person could have many lovers, but _never_ were they to be more than lovers. For a long time he had contributed this to Sigyn's affair with Theoric.

Loki had been fine with Sigyn having a bit of fun with Theoric. The half-breed had managed to bring the first sunny, light smile to her face since Váli's death. He had been grateful to Theoric for restoring life to Sigyn since she was so keen on avoiding him, Loki. Somehow the warrior had managed to say all the write words to her, proving the warrior had something better than a silver tongue, a gold tongue. Karnilla had probably favored him with the right opportunity as well. The trickster could deal with that so long as Sigyn was happily singing in the gardens where he could hear her from his studies. She never even knew that Loki would purposely leave his door open to his own hall so that he could study better to her soft lullabies. Thor would join Loki on the days when Sif had gotten the best of him in combat or if he simply wasn't having his normal, happy-go-lucky, great day. His brother would sit in the doorway, partially in the sun and the shade, head leaned back and eyes closed while he listened.

It had been on one of those days with his brother there when Loki heard Theoric spill his heart to Sigyn. A painful lump formed in his throat like a beesting would on his skin. He shut his eyes to the world as he had when she replied to him with the words she chirped, "I love you, Theoric." They words she had never said to him or he to her, but somehow they still stung Loki. Maybe not because she didn't love because he most certaintly didn't love her anymore than a good friend, his best friend aside from Thor. No, the sting came from the fact that she, the one who supposedly held a bowl over his head while he lie writhing on a rock, could break her vow to be loyal to him, _her_ husband. Loki's breath became labored from the strain of walking fast under such unbearable conditions and her _lack_ of fidelity.

Fine, so she loved him. Big fucking deal. She was still bound to Loki. Sigyn could never be rid of him. Their threads had been weaved together by Odin himself at their marriage so they could share in each other's powers and weaknesses. She was a sneaky Asgardians as far as he was concerned. The Goddess found a way to cleanse herself of him by avoiding him, save for the banquets or leaving the gardens to help further Theoric's training in sorcery. She all together had Amora impersonate her! It had been so hard the first night when the little, snobby enchantress came to his bed as Sigyn. The only plus side was that Amora never tried to steal his covers like Sigyn did, but that was the only insignificant gain he received from Amora and Sigyn's switcheroo. He wasn't hurt by it, but Loki sure as hell wanted to laugh at the poor guise. Others would have bought the act but not he.

The trickster hadn't even realized how far Sigyn had gone to cleanse herself of him till he discovered the simple letter resting on his pillow, wrapped in a red ribbon. He knew what the letter was about without opening it. She had obviously only been coming around him for the past few weeks in order to ask him for the last barrier that kept her tied to his mercy. Ignoring her had been easy, and he could let the incident slid to the back of his mind to collect dust. The letter was not as easy to forget. The paper was light but weighed greatly and burned his fingertips. The God knew he had no desire or strength to untie the ribbon and read her sugar-coated words. Getting rid of a physical object was much harder. Still, he managed to slip the letter to the fire and let it burn while he sat at the foot of his bed, holding his head and heart in his hands.

If Sigyn had so easily managed to cleanse herself of him, Loki could do the same, or so he told himself. In practice, this wasn't true. He had to feel no further than his slimy feet. The trickster was pulsating with envy for her gift of unfettering. The gooey, warm feelings he received when she was made to suffer for thinking she had the right to break her word didn't leave a trace of guilt inside of him. _HA!_ Sigyn was in the wrong for daring to go back on her vows to _him_, _not_ Theoric, but him. She _deserved_ every bit of misery that came with standing at Theoric's side instead of his. She had loyalties to Loki that in writing held more value than any she could have for Theoric. Loki's own loyalties to her far out-weighed those of Theoric's.

If he wanted to, he could've had Theoric's head chopped from his shoulders for defiling his wife.

But he didn't.

He could've had Theoric denied his training to become a Crimson Hawk.

Again he didn't. No, Loki had done quite the opposite and vouched for the half-breed.

Loki had done much charity for Sigyn's lover. She had to of known it; he as well. Not once did either of them thank him. They were just as ungrateful as the rest of Asgard. They deserved nothing more, but Loki had offered more when he sat across from Sigyn in the breakfast parlor. The trickster new she would never have said yes to his proposition, but if she had, Loki's heart might have swelled like the sea did when Heimdall and Freyja were together. He wanted that chance back to prove to Sigyn she couldn't cleanse herself of him. Just that chance to prove his point. Loki still ignored what the past had taught him; to stop trying to prove his point. All his proofs ever got him were beatings and knockdowns. He persisted still, a bit more battered and bruised but all the wiser. The God never gave up no matter how much blood he lost, no matter how many bones he snapped, and no matter how many lives he had to ruin. If they didn't listen, they would eventually see because someday they would be the ones to fall while he stood over them with bloody knuckles and a satisfying grin.

Sigyn would truly be begging for his mercy then!

A deep, hungry growl rushed through the halls and pushed Loki back into reality. He stepped lightly down the crude steps and into the belly of the beast. The flickers of light from the bubble illuminated only quick glances of silvery white fur with hidden shades of blues and blacks beneath it. The floor rumbled with each jerk the powerful beast gave, each far more powerful than the last. With a flick of his hand, the bubble hummed pure white light and chased the shadows, even his, out of the room. The great wolf backed himself into the corner and arched his back and fur until even Simba would have been running. The animal's top and bottom fangs curled out of his mouth like boar tusks. But the wolf didn't dare open his mouth. The thin, only hair-thick gold chain that held him captive had cut into his flesh. Over the years he had grown, the chain had become embedded and infected like a collar. The wound oozed the same green snot he had walked through. Loki's own stomach rolled over into a temporary grave.

"Fenris," Loki commanded darkly and calmly. He held out his hand to stroke the rusty orange patch on the beast's muzzle. The muted brown eyes of his mother lost their sharpness; though, they were nonetheless weary of the fond affection his creator showed. The creature's eyes had changed from the last time. Where there was once brilliant, bloody eyes like Laufey full of life and subtle danger prowling, they were stripped and wounded. The wolf relaxed as he came beside Loki; his shoulder standing at the elbow of the giant monster. The God's fingers rested over the dead, dying, and decaying flesh around the wound, but Fenris did not flinch. Too many of the nerves had been too damaged for him to feel any pain on the surface. But Loki didn't seemed moved by the lack of reaction. He flicked his eyes back to the beast.

A beast Fenris was. He was not capable of speech as some thought or any higher thought than any other wolf. He was tool designed to work for he and the witch. For had Fenris had any higher intelligence, Odin would have simply cut off his head after being bound. For once, being stupid was a life saving trait. The giant wolf grumbled as he sat submissively down before his alpha to sorrowfully stare and lick at Loki's bare feet. The trickster smirked. This was why he preffered dogs over cats; they realized who their masters were and obeyed once they knew. Cats were like Thor in the fact they never would consider themselves below another being. While a cat was arrogant, a wolf could be humble and loyal. Even after the better part of several centuries, Fenris' affection and absolute devotion to Loki was strong, if not stronger than before his binding.

"Today, you shall swallow the sun and moon whole," he promised. Loki's fingers dived into the the jelly-like flesh to feel for the thin chain buried deep within the muscles. Fenris whimpered and whined as his alpha ruthlessly scoured blindly over the tender, infected flesh. He felt the thin wire but not the knot that had been tied. No magic could undo the knot; only good ol' undoing by hand, which had been purposely done since no one, aside from Loki, would even dare approach the beast that lusted for Gods' flesh. The centuries of the wolf tugging at his restraints had only tightened the simple knot. Trying to loosen the knot enough to slip the hanging strip through the loop would be no easy process, but eh, being married to Sigyn had positives. Just as their marriage had said, they relished in each other's strengths. That was just another reason to not divorce the Incantation-fetter, the master of binding and _unbinding_.

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><p><strong>AN:** I've seen more and more people using these as their own little commentary on the chapters. I think I will follow suit!

I rather enjoyed this chapter. I loved Sigyn interacting with Steve and finding a similar soul. Yes, I put in the Jotun thing because I found that to be the only logical reason Steve could've been revived after being frozen in ice for ... uh ... quite a few years. And yes, Sigyn still looks like Loki. I can only imagine what comments Tony is going to make when Steve walks in holding what looks like Loki in his arms.

And for the second time, Loki enters the story! I never orignally planned on him going through his relationship with Sigyn in his own perspective. I think it kind've seemed fitting that it was something small like taking off his shoes that reminded him the most of Sigyn. Very sad too because I can see the miscommunication coming about: Loki thinking Sigyn wants nothing more of him, and she thinking he is ignoring her because she somehow failed him. I really like it though because it goes along with the theme for this part, and in real couples that are separated or going through divorce, they do not communicate well. **So a BIG thank you to Real Housewives of OC.** I really like the whole fact Loki isn't angry with her for being in love with someone else, but that she has, in his mind,_ dismissed_ him. Running with the theme from Thor I, he is still trying to be someone's equal; whether that be with Thor or Theoric or Sigyn. Its just so sad because he did this stuff for Theoric, and he is still look at as nothing more than someone cruel simply because he will not divorce her.

I _love_ the irony that the Goddess of Fidelity broke her own vows in Loki's eyes. It's kind've twisted to think Loki may in fact be the more compassionate and loyal of the two in the relationship...

Well, that is enough blabbering for now. Feel free to make your own comments on this chapter and what you think of the relationship.

So cheers to another chapter! :D


	6. Chapter 6

**Tearing God Asunder**

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><p><strong>AN:** I keep telling myself I am going to update _101 Regrets_ instead of this... but I fail each time. D:

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><p>Just as Steve had expected, the first words to come from anybody in the room had to be from Tony, and those first words were of course vulgar and said so endearingly. "You know gay marriage still isn't approved, Steve," he said while keeping a straight face. "You'll need to freeze yourself again if you want that to happen." Sigyn's nose wrinkled from the appalling statement, unsure of what to say. Steve closed his eyes and sighed tiredly. Tony flared her a wicked grin as he took another swig of his beer. "Don't look so disappointed. You can still sleep together. We're a much more tolerant society these days."<p>

Steve decided against his plan to set Sigyn down. A gut instinct told him calmly to keep Sigyn within his reach. She squirmed against him and jumped out of his grip while sending him backwards to the wall. He groaned from the impact and surprise that such a little creature was so strong. His teammates rose to the violence since Tony was the only hero still dressed business casual. Pepper kept flickering her eyes between a calm, grinning, satisfied Tony and a bristling, angered Goddess. Sigyn straightened herself out and approached him like he was a boy. "Loki should have sewn your mouth with the stitches instead of the lips of that other mortal," she hissed.

"Sorry, but I couldn't work Loki into my schedule," Tony said, sounding genuinely sorry; which only rubbed against her ears like sandpaper. He looked disappointingly to Pepper. "Take it up with Pots. She's the one who dictates where and when I go. Got me tied to a leash really." Pepper rolled her eyes and buried her face into her hands when she should've placed them over her ears so she wouldn't hear his evil.

"Mi'lady," Steve called nervously. He came from behind Sigyn where he wrapped his warm fingers around the boiling skin on her forearm. "Forgive him. He never quite learned to shut his trap."

"I shall teach him," she answered under her breath.

"Sorry, but I don't need teachers anymore," he informed matter-of-factly. "That was the point of finishing college."

The super soldier felt awful to holding onto both of her arms as tight as he was, but trading bruises for peace seemed reasonable. "Tony, scram. Don't you have to be a drugstore cowboy somewhere?" Steve spoke irritatingly.

"Whoa, gramps, if you needed me to pick up your meds, you could've just asked," Tony sneered. He stood up as he finished his drink before casually walking passed Sigyn. She glowered back at him with lasers over 9000 in power level shooting at him. Steve stepped in between the two in case Tony decided to accidentally stumble into her like he did to him. He dug his nails into her skin as she jostled uneasily. "But eh," Tony added as he slipped slowly out the door. "If I was 95 years old and still a virgin, I'd be grumpy fuddy-duddy too."

"Wise guy," Steve muttered.

"And you love it," he chimed loudly down the hallway.

Sigyn relaxed as Tony's voice and presence faded. "You can take your hands off of my arms," she mumbled. He loosened his grip but kept his hands steady. He glanced around to Clint who still had his bow strung, and Natasha that was poised like a lioness about to pounce. Pepper seemed the only one calm, but probably years of dealing with the aftermaths of Tony's abbrasive personality left her prepared for the worst. Steve let one of his hands slide to his side while keeping the other protectively wrapped around her as he guided her to the black couch.

He sat next to her. While she seemed unimpressed or not worried by the fierce auras of either assassin, Steve felt her lean the slightest to his chest. It was such a small act that meant so much. The super soldier twisted his head over his shoulders to reprehend them. "She's not some Moll," he complained. "She's Loki's fall guy."

Pepper was the first to place her weapons, a pile of papers to be filed for the company and government and pen, on the steel table. She straightened her gray skirt out with her manicured nails as she stood. The secretary strutted across the open floor to the couch on the other side. Her heals clicked incredibly high like a bat's chilling call. Sigyn briefly slid her eyes to the dame. Pepper was tall and sickly skinny from being worked to the bone. Keeping her strawberry blond hair in a tight bun in the back of her head did very little to aid her appearance. Not even Sif looked as manly as this mortal. But the mortal forced her thin lips into a half-moon smile. Natasha, in her gaudy black suit, reclined in her black chair to quietly watch the unfolding scene in the open but tiny rectangular room. Clint who sat on the other side of the table placed his bow on the table. The steel gray colors of the room seemed push the five of 'em closer to each other. Clint uncomfortably crossed his legs and arms in silent protest to her presence.

"He warms up to you," she informed. Pepper held out her hand, but Sigyn quizzically stared at the gesture. It took the mortal a moment to realize that Gods probably never shook hands because of living in a ladder of power where either either he or she was bowed to or bowed to someone. Nervously, she gave her best curtsy. To which Sigyn gave an approving nod and warm smile.

"I take what I said back, Steve," Sigyn said coolly, as if their conversation had never been interrupted. "I would much prefer to be in the company of Loki than _that_ monstrosity. At the very least, when Loki insults you, he does so with charm."

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><p><em>She slipped into the conversation as she heard her name being spoken in the midst of a conversation. She turned her head towards Fandral to her left, listening as he exclaimed he found the best dancer in all the nine realms on Alfheim. Sigyn ran her fingers through her hair as she swooped it all over her left shoulder so that it fell over the front of her pastel blue and sandy brown gown. She leaned forward but careful not to disturb her untouched food. <em>

_"I would beg to differ, my friend," Loki insisted. "Sigyn is the best dancer in the nine realms." He raised a cup of wine to her. She smiled cordially back, but said nothing. The trickster held his stare a moment too long as he observed the ways the cruel stitches had multiplied over night and now cut deeply into her lips. Her pain escaped the notice of them because the stitches were out of sight to them. And as the saying went, out of sight, out of mind. But the magic the Incantation-fetter had used to hide _his_ shame could never keep the truth from him. For the same magic that allowed Sigyn to bear his burden, did not allow any form of magic to conceal her little lie from him. His vigilant eyes dipped down to her untouched food before staring thoughtfully back at her slightly green eyes. "Is it not true, Sigyn? I am sure Theoric would agree." _

_"Theoric does not dance," she spoke softly, trying to avoid her lips from quivering too much. The whole table quieted at her meek words for they were the first to be spoken all night. Frigga, who sat far down the table to Odin's right, sighed with relief that her favorite ward had broken out of her protective shell. The brunette Járnsaxa quieted Thor quickly by pressing her hand over his blabbering mouth. The Thunderer obeyed his lover's command and curiously stared down at the scene. _

_"Does _not_ dance?" Loki repeated louder for everyone to hear. "This is a tragedy then." He took a swig of his wine before roughly placing it back down on the wooden table. He stood abruptly and rounded the edge of the table. Every set of eyes were upon now, watching, waiting, and wondering what cruel trick he would bestow upon the quiet mouse. Sigyn held her hands on her lap, but her fingers were crinkling her dress as she held her breath. She followed him with her eyes. The weariness in her eyes was bright as the fire that lit up the hall. _

_Weary were most maidens around the slender man. Loki was an oddity in Asgard with his pale skin, starry black hair slicked back, and bean-pole body. He was not like Fandral who was slender but muscular; the trickster simply lacked any muscle. A regular twig off the apple he tree he was. By Asgard standards, he was the very _opposite_ of beautiful. He did not swoon the maidens into bed on his looks. No, unlike Thor, he had to rely on charm, wit, and wine to bed his women. When none of those worked, the rumors told that the God would use a bit of witchcraft to persuade 'em. He was indeed the most terrifying Asgardian because of this. Who would suspect such a feeble man to possess such great strengths? _

_He bowed slightly to her while holding out his hand to her. "Will you not prove Fandral wrong, Sigyn?" Loki inquired. She shook her head in quiet denial. His lips curled into a frown for a second at her rejection. If she did not know better, his blink wasn't a blink but a wince. Exhaling a deep breath that smelled of sweet wine, Loki stood straighter and more daunting. Sif, who was to the right of Sigyn, tensed as she did whenever Loki's tension became noticable. Then his lips flip flopped so they no longer curved down but up in a vicious, borderlining malicious smirk. "Come now, Sigyn. If you will not dance with your lover, then perhaps you shall dance with your husband?" _

_Suddenly Sigyn felt the insult slap her cheek with the back side of its hot, violent hand. She winced at the sudden pain but was not surprised that Loki would throw back what rejection felt like. She narrowed her flickering eyes at him. Sif's hand curled over Sigyn's as a small restraint to let the insult slide, and maybe in private Sigyn might have done so, but she would not be seen as a weak maiden in public. "You have not laced the wine with enough spells to force me into a dance with you, Loki," Sigyn spoke properly. She earned a loud chuckle and approval from the table. The Goddess beamed brightly back at him with her satisfied smile._

_He paused for a moment, waiting as the laughter faded down again into uncomfortable silence. As the silence became louder, the tension between the waring couple filled the room with a hot, stale air that left everyone jittering around in their seats. "For such a shy Goddess, thee have such sharp words," Loki praised. "I can only wonder what else lies behind your quiet demeanor. You are so quiet that the hall often forgets to realize you are there. You can easily slip away without anyone noticing. I believe you to be the snake in the garden we cannot see, Sigyn." His last words were venomous and sunk deeply into her skin. "If I would wager a bet, say my head, the reason you shall not dance with me is because you slipped off your shoes without anyone noticing? So come, prove me wrong, Sigyn?"_

_The shame came back to her in one mighty wave that left her struggling to keep her head above the surface. The light eyes that had been laughing with her a few moments ago were now serious. Either way, she would be found because Loki had stuck here in the spotlight, the very she hated. But when in Rome, do as the Romans do, and Sigyn did just that. The Goddess took his hand so he could help lead her away from the table. From the side of her eyes, Frigga shook her head with a heavy sigh at her feet. There were a few harsh chuckles tossed her way but many more callous eyes criticizing her bare feet. _

_"You have proven your point, Loki," Sigyn hissed through clenched teeth._

_"No, I have _not_," he boasted. "My point was to prove you to be the best dancer in all of the World Tree. Now come and dance, Sigyn." _

_"Nay," she denied. The Goddess went to wipe her hand out of his, but Loki's grip was stronger than she had anticipated. Again, she ended up looking like the fool who was jerking her hand away without any progress._

_"Would you dance with me if I removed my boots?" Loki asked innocently enough. He pulled her closer and wrapped his other hand snugly against her hip, laying claim to his wife. She felt disgust roll through her as his subtle insult of regarding her as an item. "Have you not longed to prove the superiority of the Vanir over the Aesir? Will you not take the opportunity?" _

_"You only do so to insult my people," Sigyn retorted. _

_"I do not," The God argued. Suddenly his wicked grin was not so wicked. He gently squeezed her hand, half an apology for choosing such a harsh route to bring her out into the open and half a genuine touch of trust. Loki cast his bright, glowing face to the rest of the table. "Come now, let us all take off our shoes and be like the Vanir tonight." He kicked his first boot off. Sigyn realized he must have at some point undone the buckles so that the boot would slid easily off. Quickly he rid himself of the second boot so that his bare feet touched the cold, black marble. Loki turned to Thor and raised a brow. "What of your, dear brother? Will you not be as eager to rid yourself of your own boots as you are to bed Járnsaxa tonight?" _

_Sigyn could hear the low, disapproving growl come from Loki's truth. The warrior maiden watched as Thor blink blankly for a few moments. Sure Thor was always the first to lead his friends into danger, but when he was the one being led, the God was often confused as to why he was being led and how it had happened. Sif bent over quickly to undo her own boots. Once she felt their restraints loose, the Goddess stood boldly next to Sigyn. In a rare moment, Sif and Loki were on the same side, if only because Sif wanted Thor's attention._

_Thor, not wanting to be the last, forcibly shoved his own boots off his feet. "Very well, brother," he agreed with gust and glee. The Thunderer chucked his boots across the room so they clashed loudly against the golden walls. He bent down beside Járnsaxa to undo her shoes. Now that Thor was joining in on the fun, the rest of the table seemed to follow after his lead. Odin was chuckling at the turn of events, but their mother nodded approvingly to Loki. The trickster's grin spread from ear to ear. _

_That beautiful smile turned towards Sigyn. He carefully slipped his fingers inside hers before leading her away from the table and towards the wide open floor. She followed eagerly with him and matched her pace to his with ease; both appearing to be floated over floor like the swans on the ponds. The tempo increased as the other bare footer dancers flocked behind the duo to follow in the dance. Even Odin and Frigga came down from their perches to join the crowd in a fast pace, fiery dance. Laughter filled the halls as the younger children and less graceful dancers, such as Thor, would bump into other people wildly or accidentally step on their parnter's feet. But any and all accidental blows were laughed off and then swallowed down with a hearty glass of wine. _

_Sigyn and Loki twirled about in the chaos; him leading her through the climaxes of the song, and then abruptly she teasing him with her effortless twirls during the low, soft valleys of the song. He would reach out and jerk her forward when Thor started a domino effect of people falling over, and likewise, when Sif came too close to him, Sigyn peerilessly placed herself between the two friends and enemies and moved her body with much enthusiasm so the God would not see Sif. Loki could so easily be distracted by a sharp thrust of her hip to the side or a lingering touch thanks to the drunken effects of the wine. _

_After several songs and now breathless, a good third of the crowd had decided to retire to the table. The floor cleared enough to allow for more movement, but the songs now slowed and wooed them with its soft, ominous music that warned of faster music to come. Sigyn looked around to marvel at his handiwork. "I still do know whether to slap or kiss your cheek," she spoke lowly so that only he could hear. She looked to him with the skepticism glinting in her eyes and happiness on her lips. "What reasons are behind this?" _

_"Must every action have a reason behind it?" Loki inquired._

_"For you, yes," she answered curtly. _

_He chuckled at her bluntness but did not immediately respond. There was no use arguing the point with her since, like Thor, she knew him better than the rest; there was no wiggling or charming his way out of the compliment or insult? "It is not often that the Lady of Victory graces the halls of the Allfather with her presence," Loki explained. He looked down to her, but she did know whether the look one of disappointment, loneliness, or of anger. "To see you here, the original instead of that awful wench and poor example of an enchantress, is an honor. I shall not waste such an honor with you pouting because Theoric is not here to grace your side tonight. I cannot help but wonder what he would say."_

_"He would be furious," Sigyn said seriously. "I am not suppose to be here tonight."_

_"Why is that?" _

_"I told him I would not go if he would not go," she explained.  
><em>

_Loki twirled her around in time with the music so that they flirted with the danger of falling into the water motes that trimmed the floor. "Why the change in heart?"_

_"I decided that I would not be held back simply because I did not have a man to escort me," Sigyn spoke matter-of-factly. "Tis such a silly reason to keep me from enjoying the grand feasts." _

_"But you _always_ have an escort. You need only ask," Loki whispered. His smile was smaller now, less with enthusiasm and more with a brutal truth._

_"Well, rumors down below have it that you are too busy with escorting other women," she reminded sharply. _

_"Eh, they are nothing that cannot be put off for a night," he dismissed. "The Lady of Victory, the _real_ one, will always have priority over those concubines."_

_"Speaking of concubines," Sigyn added. She slid her eyes over to the lithe Járnsaxa. "What is Thor doing with her?"_

_Loki shrugged. "It is Thor. Would you expect better?" _

_"I would have expected Sif," she commented. _

_"As would Mother," he spoke for._

_"She rant to him?" _

_Loki nodded tiredly. "Like a gull," the God described with dread. "Father dared not to argue for Thor when Mother becomes a she-wolf." _

_"Well, you are a good brother for arguing for him, even if she is a shame to the family," Sigyn complimented. She placed her hand on his shoulder as her feet touched the edge of the water. He lifted her up by the hips to spin her around back onto safe ground. "And very brave for standing up to Mother." _

_"Worst battle I have ever fought," Loki exclaimed. "Only narrowly escaped with my life." _

_"Well, I am glad then for me," she boasted with a warm smile._

_"For _you_?" he sneered. _

_"Why yes, for if you had lost your life, I would be drowning myself in wine still," Sigyn enlightened. "So it is to my own benefit that you lived through that surely bloody and sweaty battle. I shall spread the word of how Loki saved The Mighty Thor from the she-wolf. Then immediately afterwards, coated in grim and dirt, dove into the red waters to save Sigyn from the clutches of the great sea. All of Asgard will rejoice and celebrate Loki."_

_They both giggled at the silly tale she had spun. Sigyn sighed against his chest while leaning a little too much against him for her own comfort. He let stay there for a moment before he wrapped his arms around her like a great friend. "I shall argue for you as well," Loki offered. Sigyn looked up to him. The God took a hand away so his finger could trace the strings that connected her lips. "There is no sense in causing yourself more pain." _

_"Again, you wish only to offer your services so you can use your silver tongue against Theoric," she replied. _

_"Oh, so you were yelling at Theoric before you came here?" he stated rhetorically. "So Mother is right that you two do not share a perfect relationship. Tis good then to see you are not drunk off such euphoric emotions."_

_"Any partnership is hard to maintain," Sigyn clarified. "It takes the willingness of both parties to compromise, forgive, and teamwork; much like a battle that must be fought every day to defend what both hold dearly. There are days when the battle wears you down, and one simply does not have the strength nor will. Theoric and I simply had our day today." _

_"I see," Loki answered shortly. His eyes weighed heavily on her, staring almost blankly at her like he was remembering. Sigyn had to look away before her knees would buckle from the heavy burden, but she seemed not to be the only one feeling the weight. The God has lost the spirit in his step and lumbered more like Thor next to her. She could almost hear his thoughts through his heavy steps. Yes, indeed it was okay for a couple to have their off day. Father and Mother had their own off days, but what happened when those off days became nearly every day? Then what? _

_"So," Sigyn drabbled on in hopes of switching the subject. "I hear that Volstagg actually became filled when on Midgard. This is a tale I must hear." He grinned, all to happy to follow her lead down a happier path. Loki took his hands in her once more so they could match the music's galloping speed. Again they became lighter on their feet, forgetting the silence between them.  
><em>

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><p><strong>AN:** If Loki and Thor don't destroy the world, I am pretty sure Sigyn and Tony will. Also, I am in love with 40's slang. Captain America just rose into my top three favorite heros because of that.

As a forewarning, I think I'm gonna have to elaborate on the whole Thor/Járnsaxa affair. I see way to much potential between Járnsaxa and Sif and how this could possibly relate to Jane to _not_ go through with it. There are so many parrellels that could be made for Sigyn to see. And speaking of Sigyn, I didn't originally plan on putting a flash back into this chapter; for the matter, having the flash back be the main part of the chapter. It was a nice surpise that I hope you enjoyed.

For the flashback, I did not give it a specific time, but you can infer from some of the small things said that this is after Sigyn and Amora made the swap. I very much enjoyed elaborating on their relationship because so far we've only see this hate between them on Earth. I was glad to see that on Asgard, they actually did get along ... somewhat. The basis for all the confrontation is there with Loki insulting Sigyn and vice versa, but there is also the aspect that Loki does good in a backwards kind of a way. Yes, he is a jerk for shaming her but all in the name of getting her to smile and enjoy herself. I like that he is the one who still is fighting for the relationship but really doesn't know how to go about it since Sigyn seems to have given up. That confirms last chapter when Loki is brooding about her cleansing herself of him. Instead of saying something, Loki is just silent. Hence forth for the quote at the beginning of this part. The silence speaks the truth about their relationship.


	7. Chapter 7

**Tearing God Asunder**

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><p><strong>AN:** Must focus on other story ...

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><p>The night passed in relative peace once the mortals discovered that Gods, or just Sigyn, enjoyed all the benefits of the internet, including youtube and playing on X-box live. Surprisingly, Sigyn remarkably and repeatedly beat Clint, but of course, Pepper claimed the title of top gamer for the night. Steve had sat on the sidelines, still confused by the idea of playing and shooting people in a virtual world. Somehow he ended up at the butt end of all their jokes; mainly them revolving around how Sigyn, who came from a different realm, was more adjusted to modern life than Steve. He took it all in good spirit, but the small hints of a frown clung to the edges of his lips all night. Sigyn, the ever perceptive, encouraged him that he would eventually catch on but at his own pace. And tt had been well into the night when the combination of alcohol and exhaustion became too much.<p>

As a result of their metabolisms, Sigyn and Steve were the only ones who were left unaffected by the alcohol, and consequently, were the first to be sitting in the common room, munching on a frozen pancake because they obviously tasted better frozen, or, as Steve suspected, she was still curious about the whole idea of frozen food. Again, from what Steve had heard, Asgard was suppose to be this shinning city on a hill with technology far superior to their own. But they didn't have frozen food? Or ice? He buried his head into his hands, grinning and chuckling.

"Ice is the least of our problems," she complained as she dipped her frozen pancake into the room temperature syrup. She laid lazily over the couch like this was her home, but there was still an edge of poise to her that was sharp and not to be questioned. "We still rely upon ravens to deliver our letters. And I must say, that when I do go back to Asgard, I will be missing the internet very much. I will have to put a word in to Odin to establish connections to Midgard so I can maintain my Amazon Prime."

"Amazon Prime?" he inquired.

"Oh yes!" she said with a clap of her hands. "It is like going to the market without going! You buy what you want and then in two days, your goods arrive at your door! It is a genius idea! I cannot believe no one in Asgard ever thought it up. Of course, we will have to convince UPS to deliver to Asgard, which is not as easy as it sounds."

"Establishing a connect to Earth just so you can use your Amazon Prime?" Fury asked skeptically. He sauntered towards them, casting a disappointing glare to Steve and then an ominous glower to Sigyn. Steve shared a concerned glance to her while scooting just a hair closer to her. Sigyn matched Fury's, well, fury. It wasn't there presence on the surface but underneath their skin with a dangerous potential to become violent. "You said something along the lines of an Æsir marriage yesterday. Elaborate."

"Steve, this is why people should drink in the morning instead of at night," she commented. "They cannot stand each other."

"Do not make me ask you again," Nick growled.

The Goddess sighed dramatically. "Marriages are far different on Asgard than Midgard. To begin, marriages are not based on the feelings of the heart but on much more substantial ideals like trust, compromise, and ideas associated with logic. When one marries, they do so to help each other provide a better life and for no other reason. In the minds of Asgardians, it is better to marry young but not too young so that you are still children. Typically around the age of fifteen or so both gentlemen and ladies are married. This is considered the perfect age because you are old enough to make reasonable choices but young enough to grow to love each other. For in Asgard, we do _not_ believe people _fall_ in love; rather, people _grow_ to love people. Hence forth, immediately after being wed, you are to have children because that forces you to grow."

"I don't need a long-winded explanation," Fury said shortly. "Get to the point."

She huffed and wrinkled her nose. Steve realized that Sigyn had been proud to explain Asgardian customs, and Nick's impatience hurt. He felt her pain because no one these days even wanted to pay attention or know about his customs. It was always just let go of those old traditions because they no longer mattered. But they did matter, to him. Her customs mattered to her. "The part you are curious about is how our threads, those of Loki and I, were weaved into a cord, like rope, and become stronger. Each of us can relish in the other God's strength. Our match together was quite a good match considering we both are infatuated with sorcery. My own abilities to bind and unbind, as seen yesterday, are impressive. His own abilities are that much stronger as well. The reverse is true as well. He is as skillful at binding and unbinding as I am, and I am just as skilled in trickery as he. There is a catch, however."

"Like what?" Fury said unhappily.

"Neither of us can harm each other magically," she enlightened. "This is a defensive spell woven into our threads to help prevent violence between each other; thus, we may only harm each other physically and without magic. This is, for you, very good because I am a living, breathing shield for you. I say you are _highly_ lucky. This is of no offense to you, Steve." Sigyn looked genuinely over to him. "But you are mortal like the rest of your comrades. I am sorry to inform you, Nick Fury, but your mortals do not stand a chance against Loki." From her tone of voice, she wasn't sorry at all. She was little smug and a little _too_ happy to be informing him. "That is why I am the only one qualified to go up against him."

"Are you capable of taking Loki on in hand-to-hand combat?" Steve asked with concern.

She took a deep breath and slowly released it. The answer was obvious already from that action. "I do possess Lævateinn, a sword as powerful Gungnir, the spear of Odin. Both weapons of which, are far more powerful than Mjölnir. All of these weapons are no match against the Tesseract. Imagine trying to fight a man with sword while you only wield a twig. I regret on my own part in part of my safety, that magic created from the Tesseract can in fact harm me since that magic was not created by Loki, only commanded by him. I am by no means about to lay down my life for this realm. I will let Jane die before I die. I will deal with the consequences of those actions myself."

"Then how exactly will you retrieve the Cosmic Cube then if you are powerless against Loki?" Nick asked dryly.

"Powerless I am _not_," Sigyn corrected boldly. She glared at him with enough hate to burn the world to dust and ash. "I know Loki best. I know what he is doing."

"Which is...?" Steve asked before Nick could put in any sharp two words.

"Trying to woo me," she answered tiredly. "He has done this before on several occasions. First, he tries to persuade me to his side. Second, he insults me. Third, he places me in the spotlight like I am some fool. Fourth, he turns the tables so I am on his side. As I know what he is doing, I am already a step ahead of him. Thus, I will pretend to be wooed by him. From there I will take back the Tesseract for _you_." She smiled with confidence, borderlining arrogance at Nick. "I will have saved your realm, disarmed Loki, and go back to protecting Jane until Thor is able to come to Midgard via the Bifröst."

"You make this sound too simple," Nick criticized.

"The best laid plans are," Sigyn chirped. She took a deep breath. "Now we must draw Loki out into the open by placing me up as bait for your men. I am sure Tony would love to take a few shots at me. That will be enough to convince Loki I am on his side. I will require a few artifacts if we are to fulfill this plan."

"Need your compact, lip gloss, and purse?" Fury inquired.

"_No_," she said unamused. "I need my silver steed back. He is called Ducati Streetfighter. Secondly, I will not face Loki without Lævateinn. Thirdly, and most importantly, I will not go out in public in these rags." She motioned to the clothes she wore but forgot all Fury or any of them saw was Loki in his attire. "I am royalty. I will look nothing short of royalty. Never forget I am a classy lady."

Fury rubbed his temples. "Fine," he muttered. "I will send you and Steve to retrieve your belongings while we wait for the rest of the team to awake. Steve, keep in contact. I will give you the coordinates where we will meet."

"We are going through with the plan today?" Sigyn asked, bewildered.

"What? Afraid your plan isn't going to work?"

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><p>Awkward seemed to becoming the norm in the life of an Avenger. Strange he could deal with, but awkward was not something Steve liked to endure. Biting the bullet again, while standing outside the door of a small but cozy ranch. There were flowers on every table; the house was left smelling like a garden. She had small trees growing near the windows. Combined with the light, soft colors, the house gave off a very open, relaxed feeling. If they weren't here on business, Steve would have liked to sit down on her couch and relax. Steve moaned softly into his hands. Hearing her singing lightly on the other side of the door was leaving more uncomfortable than he wished. He ran his hand through his short hair again, but before he could manage another moan, the door handle began to jiggle. Steve moved quickly aside.<p>

Sigyn came out, looking again like Loki, but he assumed she had changed because she carried herself with a different air, more sophisticated and less warm. She ran her hand over her abdomen to smooth out the v-shape flaps. Less dressy than Frigga's wear but far more classy than Sif, Sigyn was that combination between practical and chic. With a wide, ebon' v-neck shirt covered her chest snugly and a silver breastplate to support her breasts. This was overlaid with a vest that was snug but allowed room for her to maneuver easily. But the bottom half of the vest flared out into loose, light, and flowing cloth that seemed to float around her. From her silver belt were two semi-circles full of silver mail, one of each side of her legs, that accented the skirt of the vest. A final, inverse triangle cloth with silver accents hung down to her knees. Against the black material that hugged her thighs, the skirt, in shades of brown with light blue glints, popped out like that daisy in the sidewalk crack. Not surprisingly, from her calf to her foot was bare because she refused to torture her feet with shoes. In a moment that would have left Frigga proud, Sigyn wore her silver facial plate. It rounded her face, giving her a more princess-child appearance.

"Have I flustered you?" she inquired, leading the way to the front door.

"Yes," Steve admitted. "Its a combination between you being a female and looking and talking just your husband. Its _very_ awkward." Sigyn chuckled. He wondered whether it was with or against him. Like a puppy, he followed behind her as he had done with Ms. Carter during the 40's. He accounted for their similarities as to why he both got along with Sigyn, left constantly flustered, and feeling protective of her. His attention was short-lived by the eerie glow from the corner, like the kind of a diamond gave when glittering the sunlight, but without the sunlight. The glow came in different waves, some like fiery red, and then would abruptly change to a chilling, deathly blue. He thought of it like two forces fighting within a crystal jail cell. The blade and hilt portrayed this with its jagged, asymmetrical edges; they were almost barbaric and primitive. The length of the blade was impressive at nearly five foot, 4 inches long. Seeing Sigyn grip the handle and twirl the sword with ease into its case upon her back bewildered him. The weight of such an object upon her back did not phase her. She stepped easily and lightly as ever, ushering him towards the front door.

"Where did you get the sword?" Steve asked innocently.

She grinned at him with that mysterious glint in her eye. "A gift," Sigyn explained. "You must know I am an oddity in the realms. I have citizenship in every realm. To show my citizenship and honor that realm, the king of that realm bestows a gift. Typically this is some sort of small trinket, from a necklace-" She motioned to the two gold chokers around her neck. "To a ring or a trinket of that sort. Rarely do kings bestow such gifts as a powerful sword."

"So Odin gave you that gift?" he wondered.

"No," she said shortly. "I earned my Asgardian citizenship before Odin took the throne. No, Bor, his father, gave me a brass key." Sigyn patted her hip where the key hug behind the cloth. "Lævateinn was given to me by that friend who I wrote to every night." She stopped for a moment, fingers on the door handle, and breath held tightly in her lungs. "He is Laufey, or as I know him, Nál. He gave me Lævateinn as a sign of my citizenship on Jötunheimr. Directly after giving me, a small child a powerful weapon, Nál bowed to me. He elevated me to a status above a king, at least on Jötunheimr. Odin would love nothing more than to add Lævateinn to his collection."

"Why hasn't he?"

"Lævateinn belongs to me. I will not place the weapon into the hands of Odin," she growled possessively. "If Nál wished to have given Lævateinn to Odin, he would have, but he did not. Nál and Odin were _not_ on good terms. If I did such an act, I would be dishonoring Nál. As Nál was my greatest friend, I would never even imagine handing Lævateinn to Odin. And Odin abuses power. Should be no surprise then that Loki does as well." She looked over at Steve with that strained smile. "Like father like son."

Steve placed his sunglasses over his head as they headed outside. His vintage motorcycle with war green paint and the American flag on the side seemed to heavy compared to the lithe, white Streetfighter Ducati. No doubt her motorcycle went faster than his too. He grimaced. How pathetic was it, that some young lady from another realm was more adapt to modern society than him in every way possible. He was thankful Tony wasn't here to make a remark; though, he was sure by the end of the day, Tony would be using this against him somehow, someway.

She casually mounted her favorite "steed" in all the nine realms. Grinning again, she spoke, "We also need to rid our selves of these horses and exchange them for these beauties." Sigyn gently patted the bike like she were complimenting her favorite steed. "I cannot imagine having to give up this lovely machine for an animal as slow as a horse."

"You should stay here then," Steve answered. Their bikes roared to life. "That would solve all of your problems."

The Goddess laughed. "I would do so, but my previous experiences on Midgard ruin this realm. I am glad to say that your realm is finally at the basic standards of the other realms. Quite a change really with the whole world not on the verge of freezing over into a giant snowball, people not beheading each other for witchcraft, or the general lack of hygiene." Sigyn shivered at the memories. "You mortals used to be so _disgusting_."

"Well, we do change quickly," he said half-heartedly.

"You will grow to adapt to this world," she comforted. "Please do me a favor and do not lose your heritage. It makes you very charming and a pleasure to be around in these times."

"You're a pleasure to be around as well," Steve complimented in return. "I will miss your company while you are gone with Loki."

"Well," she mused. "I may take a day or two off. Would you care to join me for a coffee on one of those days?"

The smile shouldn't have been as big as it was, and he should have felt guilty because she was a taken women. "I would enjoy that a lot. Thank you," he finally said after an awkward moment. "But how will you reach me?"

"Keep a look out for a raven," she said with a nod to the sky. "And Steve, please do not take this the wrong way for I would like to enjoy a cup or two of coffee with you."

"Take what the wro—" The wind was knock out of him, or rather, he felt the wind rip him from his bike and toss him like a rag dolls across a football field. Steve's body twisted and creaked and skidded across the hard, desert floor for what felt like an eternity. With a final roll onto his stomach, he came to a sliding halt, just inches away from a cactus. He groaned out the aches and pains that coated his entire body. He had taken heavy beatings before but this—Steve grunted as he struggled to his elbows—was cruel and unusual. His neck creaked when he turned his head to watch Sigyn spin away in front of a dust cloud kicked up by her stupid, modern motorcycle. Steve flopped forced himself onto his back. His breath was labored and heavy. He couldn't even count how many bruised or broken ribs he had because each rib felt the same. Or was that the feeling of being dooped?

"Nick," Steve breathed lowly through the intercom in his ear. "Sigyn has deviated from the plan. She's gone rogue."

"Well, where the hell are you?" Nick screeched through the frequency.

"Just had my ass handed to me," he mumbled.

"_Fuck_," he heard his superior curse. "Tony, get the others and go round up that son-of-a-bitch. Dead or alive, I don't give a shit."

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><p><strong>AN:** Yes, some comic relief in there with Sigyn being more adjusted to modern life than Steve. I mean, Amazon Prime to her is like some godly thing. And frozen pancakes. I can totally see Sigyn storming into Odin's chambers demanding Asgard get their heads out of their asses and install internet, UPS, electricity, and all modern things we use. I don't think Thor would mind as long as he could have his unlimited supply of poptards. Speaking of which, Sigyn would totally introduce him to frozen poptarts.

On a more nerdy note, the Lævateinn is an actual sword. Depending on which source you use, some say it is wielded by Loki, others by Surtr, or by Frey. But in the Marvel Universe, Surtr has his own sword that is in Odin's treasure room. And according to Norse legend, Frey gave up his sword. Loki obviously in the movie did not have any weapon, save for daggers and his father's spear. So ... the sword was up for free-for-all. But as to why Lævateinn is as powerful as Gungnir is a tribute to Norse mythology. In mythology, Norse!Loki crafted this sword. As Norse!Loki was blood brothers with Norse!Odin, it only seemed to make sense that they each wielded a weapon as powerful as the other. Both of these weapons are more powerful than Mjölnir. This is coming from an interview with Tom Hiddleston.

A very important theme is introduced in this chapter; that being people do not fall in love but grow to love each other. Keep that in mind. Its going to be here throughout the story. Uhh, what else? Oh! Yes, Sigyn and Steve are a _friendly_ match made in heaven. Umm, and the whole Loki is like Odin comparison! Gotta love it because Loki, whether he cares or not, is like Odin in more than one way. By the way, I will be posting what Sigyn's attire looks like on tumblr. This is going to be her main attire throughout the story. On a final note, Sigyn deviated from the plan. Was that smart or not smart? And is she actually good like she keeps saying, or, as her words have also implied, couldn't give a shit about the human race? Thoughts or comments?

**Thank you to ScreamsOnScreen for your lovely reviews! I always love reading them. I am sorry that I did not address the stitches in this chapter. I originally had it in there, but I had to edit it out because it felt awkward. BUT ITS COMING! Just, ugg, hold on! It will be addressed here shortly!  
><strong>


	8. Chapter 8

**Tearing God Asunder**

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><p><strong>AN:** Hello! Again! Another update! Before you read this chapter, I am going to say this is my favorite so far. A lot happens here. So read closely!

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><p>It had all been a waiting game; reclining against the couch with his shoes off, sipping on a glass of sweet wine, and listening to the soft snores of Fenris while playing the amusing game called Angry Birds. The mortals had yet to cease him with all the mental strategy games that had developed over the years. He was quite amused and impressed, half wishing he had stopped by Midgard sooner. Loki swirled his wine around in the glass before taking another sip. The pigs' squealing brought a deeply satisfied smile to his face. The humans sounded exactly the same when their buildings collapsed like dominos. A low chuckle escaped his thin lips before he sighed. It was the whining of Fenris that caused him to turn his head to the giant wolf laying casually in the corner. The compound of this old, Nazi base had proven most useful for hiding out and providing the essentials, but the dark colors only made the room seem smaller and Fenris that much larger.<p>

"That time already?" Loki muttered rhetorically as he watched Fenris whip his ears back and whine louder. It was interesting enough that the wolf could feel the same ominous heat growing in the pits of his rumbling stomach. The feeling had been there for several hours after the events of yesterday but had quickly faded. But now they were back, stronger the distress. He knew himself he would experience it; it was only natural since the same magic that weaved their threads together in the typical Æsir marriage and allowed them to share in each others' strengths, also permitted them to feel great distress and only distress. Again, this was another defensive mechanism woven into their joined threads to ensure they knew when the other was hurting. But he assumed since his thread was directly tied to Fenris, that the damn wolf could pick up on the tension between them.

"Well, do we let her suffer a bit more or go directly after her?" he inquired. Fenris whined louder and caused Loki to wince. "If you are to keep up that blasted noise, then I have no choice." The icy tone silence the wolf for a moment. He quickly slid his feet into his shoes. The God stood, took the last gulp of his wine, set down the glass, and picked up his staff that rested next to his couch. The wolf lifted his head with large eyes staring wearily at his master. "I will be quick about it," Loki assured with a dismissive hand. "Chew on anything while I am gone, and you will be turned into a new rug to furnish the room." The wolf curled into a small ball with his tail over his muzzle. Loki smiled arrogantly at the wolf. It felt so right to have someone cower at his every threat; a refreshing turn of the tables.

With a swift _poof_, a _sizzle_, and a light _thud_, the scenery around him vanished smoke and transformed into the awful wasteland of New Mexico. The heat came in waves off the ground. In his heavy leather layers and gold metal, Loki felt the sweat already beginning to drip. He exhaled a deep breath, wondering for a moment if he was heat intolerant because of his heritage. The wondering thought scampered away at the first sound of a blast. He turned his gaze onto the numerous potholes dotting the road. Farther down the road, in front of a red dust cloud, he could sense Sigyn. Loki flicked his eyes up to spot the irritating, red man with gaudy gold accents taking aim once more at Sigyn. He made that trademark smirk. His plans went flawlessly without Thor and his blasted hammer. Again, all the more reason Loki enjoyed Midgard.

The irritable sound of a black SUV rolling down the road towards Sigyn, Tony, and him, caught the trickster's attention. Through the sunroof was Hawkeye with his bow drawn and aimed towards him? He snorted at the mortal's illogic. Did he really believe he could take down a God, a bloody Norse God, with a single arrow? It was almost laughable. Wait. No. It was laughable. Loki was laughing underneath his breath. He felt lighter in his heart. It had been far too long since he had had a good laugh. Not unsurprising, his laughter came at the price of someone else's misery. The God flicked his hand to the side and watched as the front wheels shifted sharply to the right while the back wheels turned to the left. A conflict of motion, the car began to tumble. Lifting a single finger up, the front of the car seemed to his a mousetrap. The metal screamed in pain, or was that Pepper? He didn't care, but he did care and watch with amazement as the front of the car acted as a pivot and flopped onto its roof. The glass shattered out of the room, glistening like the ocean waves of Asgard. What a truly beautiful site.

He looked lovingly at his father's prize. No wonder Odin had prized this artifact so much; not only did the Tesseract come with its own abilities but acted as a steroid for Loki's magic. Just such simple flicks of his hand caused _so much_ chaos. He could spend all day wondering what would happen if he put some actual effort into his magic... Or he could just see for himself. But his smirk quickly turned south and decayed into a disappointed frown. Of course, of all places Sigyn had to be, it had to be away from any buildings. He sighed despondantly. This was going to be another boring day.

Or was it?

Again, his eyes rested on Tony, who had shifted his focus from Sigyn to him. Well, at least Tony would have some witty comments to say. Loki had a mutual respect for any mortal who could spit out retorts as quickly as himself. Hell, if they weren't on opposite sides, Loki would probably ask Tony out for a drink just so they could insult each other with their wit. Of all the Avengers, Tony would be the only one Loki would consider sparing. True intelligence was such a rarity these days and shouldn't be easily disposed.

But it was before Loki or he could get out a word that the world trembled. Loki, unconsciously, back stepped from the familiar rumble. He flashed his wide eyes, half expecting the sound to have come from his brother. But no, it was from Sigyn flicking her sword across the ground towards Tony. As if it came from the Earth itself, ice rose up through the cracks in the desert floor. The ice multiplied, carving itself into mountain. Both terrified and amazed, Loki held his breath, watching as in a blink of an eye as the opaque ice consumed Tony. After a quiet moment, with only the creaking of the car and ice, Loki swerved to Sigyn. He studied the sword in her hand before he flicked his eyes approvingly at her.

"Impressive," he complimented, shouting so she could hear. The God casually strolled towards her with that egoistic flare in his confident steps. Sigyn rested on her seat with her eyes narrowed and glaring relentlessly at him. Her knuckles were bleeding dry and turning white from her tight grip on the weapon. Loki smiled rather approvingly, _happily_ at Sigyn. She already looked miles better than yesterday with her stitches removed from her gorgeous lips. In her formal, Asgardian attire, the Goddess looked her part; subtly dangerous and sophsticated. Though she and Sif were equally bold, strong women, Sigyn managed to do so with elegance; while Sif was all about being blunt and forward like a true _commoner_. Sif, adding insult to injury, carried herself like a commoner, an arrogant commoner. Which, for the record, is the worst kind of commoner.

"This is indeed a surprise," Loki continued. "From your distress, I expected you to be cowering to these mortals."

"Ha!" Sigyn combated. "These, as you pointed out, are only mortals. They are of little concern."

"Still, they can sting," he spoke from experience.

"Not as much as your presence," she hissed.

He was taken aback by her swift words. Loki's face became steel and unreadable. As Sigyn had learned, was a defensive barrier he put up when he didn't wish to have his emotions exposed. "I came to your rescue, no?" he asked.

"I never needed rescuing," Sigyn informed coldly.

The God arched an eyebrow. "Then why get all distressed?" he asked.

"Had to draw you out into the open somehow." Sigyn sat farther back into her bike, but Loki kept a cautious eye on her weapon. He stopped in front of her, poised and ready to strike. "You are quite predictable."

"You would be the first to make such a statement," Loki replied dryly. He moved closer to close the gap between them. The new found rigidness in her body did not escape his notice. By his smirk on his lips, she knew that he knew. "Would you like to reconsider your words?" he asked in a whisper.

"There is _nothing_ to reconsider," she stated brashly. "I simply need to warn you."

"Oh?" he asked innocently. Loki leaned forward to listen to her words. "What have I done to deserve a compassionate act from Sigyn?" There was a brief, angry silence between them; Loki staring hard at her, while she avoided his gaze to stare down at the ground. He sighed. "Speak what you need to speak before I leave." He kept his words short and to the point like his throwing knives.

She kept her gaze away from him. "I feel obligated as your—" Sigyn paused for an awkward moment as she force the word out of her mouth. "Wife to tell you that if you continue this path, the wrath of Thor will be upon you, Loki. And while we are not close—" The understatement from the last thousand years. "I do not want your death."

"Even if it would free you from me?" he reminded, purposely pressing her buttons.

Sigyn stared bitterly up at him. The sword threatened to move. But Loki smiled maliciously at her pain. It was the very least she deserved for the treatment he had put her through. "Yes," she gritted regrettably. "This is not about Theoric—"

"Do not lie to me!" Loki lashed out wildly. "This has _everything_ to do with Theoric."

"Why are you obsessed with Theoric?" Sigyn battered right back. She slid out of her seat to stand aggressively against Loki. "He has done _nothing_ to you."

"_Nothing_?" Loki spat; the word burned his tongue. He laughed mockingly at her, viciously. "Oh, let me count the ways that man has turned me into the greatest fool in Asgard."

"Only you have turned yourself into a fool," she defended ruthlessly, shouting at him.

"Then you have turned yourself into a _whore_."

The Goddess snapped. Loki stumbled back as Lævateinn lunged for his jugular. While it avoided tasted blood, the tips of his hair were not as lucky. The black locks fell to the ground silently. A feral growl escaped his mouth. A wild look consumed his eyes and set them aflame with the passion he had kept locked away for centuries. _Cling!_ Lævateinn's bite met his gold staff. He swung the sword off his weapon and immediately took a swing at Sigyn. She ducked flawlessly while swinging Lævateinn at his ankles. The God stumbled backwards, and Sigyn, the second greatest opportunist—Loki was the first—came at him again and again. Each strike was met with his staff, but each strike was closer and closer to his body. Each _cling_ and _ping_ only acted as gasoline to the fire in Sigyn's veins. The Goddess grunted to the point where she had frustrated, determined tears ripping down her cheeks. She swung again, but her sword sliced through Loki and cut through the smoke. Loki disappeared. Sigyn gripped onto Lævateinn, panting heavily in the heat of battle and the Sun.

A soft, gentle hand brushed her wet hair away from her neck. Sigyn spun around with Lævateinn in hand. In a swift and fluid motion, Loki twisted her wrist and rendered Lævateinn useless. The sword fell to the ground with a _thud_. Keeping his hand that wrist, Loki kicked at her exposed, soft flesh behind the knee. With Sigyn's balance was disrupted, she was at the mercy of gravity and Loki. The trickster wrapped the hand he held around neck while pinning the free arm behind her back. His staff fell to the ground. Like a fish out of water, the Goddess fought against him, flopping back and forth, grunting, groaning, growling, and crying. But he was silent. Content with the childish tantrum he had brought out from her.

"Let me fucking go!" Sigyn cried out as she tried to elbow him in the chest; which, for the record, didn't work. Instead, he forced her down to her knees and kept his grimy foot uncomfortably over her calf. "Let me go you fucking, bastard!"

"No!" Loki snarled. The rawness to his voice, to his hurt, and to his pride silenced Sigyn. She hung her head limply against her arm; strange enough, her own arm felt like a noose, and Loki, she saw now, as her executioner. He jerked on her wrist, earning a small squeal. She could feel his hot breath against her neck, breathing down her, and slowly suffocating her. His breath was uneven, sometimes labored, other times shallow like he was waiting for the right moment. "Tis about time you were put on trial for your crimes."

"Crimes?" she coughed. "I have done _nothing_ wrong." Sigyn twisted her head, just enough so he could see the dirty glare from her right eye, but her hair fell over her face.

Against his own will, Loki felt his own tears spill across his face, like liquid that burned his skin to the very bone. "_Stop_ lying, Sigyn," The God yelled into her ear. She physically flinched at the audio onslaught.

"I am _not_ lying!" she scream with another great jerk. "I—I—I have done nothing." Her voice was cracking, shattering really.

"You broke your vows. You betrayed me," he shrieked. Loki tightened his grip again, going forth between grins as she whined and struggled and feral frowns; a constant war and chaos of emotions. "It is because of that fucking half-breed."

"No, this is not about Theoric," Sigyn argued. "He is the _not_ the problem! _You are!_" A primitive, furious, precarious howl came from Loki. "You blame everyone but yourself. It does not matter whether it is Thor or Theoric. You cannot handle the responsibilities of your actions. Just when there is a slim chance you might suffer the consequence, you either go cowering in fear behind true people or twist your words till even the most unjust of words could sound just. That is why you will _never_ be king." Loki kicked her to the ground. Her face met the ground with a painful _smack_. Sigyn could taste blood again on her lips. She went to push herself up, but the trickster slammed his foot into her shoulder blade. An audible crack, followed by an ear-bleeding yelp filled his head. The sharp tips of the staff rested against her neck. "I only broke my vows because you broke yours first."

"I _never_ broke my vows," he barked and pressed the tip of the staff harder against her skin.

"Yes, you did!" the Goddess retorted. "You broke your vows every day that you did not stand beside me after the death of Váli. You abandoned me when I needed you most." The blood now ran down her neck and dribbled onto the hot, desert floor. "But what should I expect? Every time the fight gets hard, you runaway. You do not fight for anything worth of any value. So why should I have fought to keep alive something that you would rather runaway from?" Sigyn shivered and went completely limp beneath Loki. She couldn't contain the sobs from within her sore chest. "Theoric was the man who came to me when I needed a husband most. Through his actions h-h-h-he became m-m-mo-more of husband than you could _ever_ have been. And he is _my_ husband, regardless of any politics and magic."

"I have been your husband," Loki remarked possessively. "And I have been a good husband. I let him come into your life because he brought a smile to your face after Váli. How should I have known that by doing so, you would eventually betray me?"

"How should I have known that you were being passive?" Sigyn spat with all her heart. "You hardly spoke two words to me after Váli; would hardly look at me!"

"And how could I when you fled from my sights every time I saw you?"

"Only because you treated me like I was something to be thrown away!" She took a deep breath, but there was no method to calming her now. "Why should I stay around you and be treated in such an inhumane way? It is illogical! You would not do it! N-n-n-no one would!"

Loki backed off, hesitantly, almost scared really, from her. He was bewildered, looking just about any place but to her. Loki licked his lips nervously, but the cool feel of his tongue could not dampen the racing of his heart in his throat. He opened his mouth several times to speak, but all he tasted were the salty tears. Sigyn's sobs were quieting, making room for the silence so desperately wanted to avoid. Loki squatted down and buried his head into his free hand to avoid the site of her. He could feel her distress in the air, the bits and pieces being bitten off by a mad wolf and then tossed carelessly to the ground. No, it was more a mutual feeling they shared. Damn, it cut like shattered glass. Neither he nor she was too sure that all the pieces could be removed.

The emotion overcame both of them.

He didn't know exactly how long they had stayed like that, neither talking, just listening to the silence repeat, "We both fucked up."

In the distance, they both could hear the rumble of the SHIELD's assets coming to rescue their freak show performers. Loki wearily stood up, feeling his whole body go weak, and for a moment, his vision went black. The God tightened his grip on the staff until he felt secure enough on his own two feet. He walked first to Lævateinn and waved his hand over the weapon. The great sword disappeared to a secret place. The trickster slowly and against his own desires headed to Sigyn. She was still on the ground with her eyes closed and mouth partially open so she could breath easier. She looked more lifeless than she ever did with the stitches across her lips. "They are coming," he said simply in a steel voice.

The Goddess opened her eyes. "What does it matter?" she croaked. "I trade one prison for another."

"Midgard does not need to be your prison," Loki offered as he knelt down beside her. "You may come with me, but I shall make no promises of what lies in the future for you."

"So that is your promise?" Sigyn inquired.

"Yes," he whispered.

"That is an awfully big promise." She closed her eyes and sighed. "You break your promises. I will stay here."

"They will kill you," Loki spoke bluntly.

There was this half-hearted grin. "Death, is the least of my worries," Sigyn answered with a small laugh.

"I shall not leave you here," he replied.

"Why not?"

"We are still married. If I let the mortals take your breath, then Njǫror will blame me for your death. Then I will have the wrath of the Vanir and Æsir on me. I do not seek war with any of them," he said, just like a true strategist. He placed his hand gently over her lower back with a grimace. Sigyn opened her eyes again to look at him. Loki was the first one to look away this time. With a fiery sizzle, they availed in smoke to safety.

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><p><strong>AN:** First note, there will not be an update next week b/c of midterms. Which is why I pressed so hard to get this chapter out. They're are errors going to be in it. I will sort those out when I update next week. Now onto the fun, rambling stuff.

Okay, the story has shifted a bit. This whole conflict was not suppose to come around until _much_ later, but obviously, Loki and Sigyn had their own agenda to move this up to chapter 8. This is definitely an angst chapter, and where all the silence that they have had between each other for years finally comes out in words. Really, towards the end of the chapter, not too much detail is put in about how they feel because after something like that, I don't think you would be feeling much of anything. Kind've just be trying to go through all that went down.


	9. Part II: With the Bad Comes the Good

**Tearing God Asunder**

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><p><strong>AN: **Anyway, found this little plot bunny I typed out a _looooooooooong_ time ago. And so, instead of just posting this as a one shot, I decided to give it a home in this story. So with some minor editing to place this chapter into the story, it is here! I do particularly like this chapter because it gives more depth and bring more characters in that I have neglected. This is also the beginning of a new part! But before the new part, I would personally like to thank for the support given to this story through favs, alerts, and reviews. I have greatly appreciated the feedback! I would also like to thank those who are like me, who hardly ever review but are loyal to a story. So thank you all so much!

Cheers to the new part!

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><p><strong>PART II – With the Bad Comes the Good<br>**

_Those who do not know how to weep with their whole heart do not know how to laugh either. - Golda Meir  
><em>

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><p>Thor had kept himself usually observant after his talk with his mother. Over the course of over six weeks, Thor had come to understand that no one noticed the difference between Amora and Sigyn. The God was deeply bothered by this. She was a Goddess, wife to his brother, and part of the royal family. This was in part because she had been so quiet. All Amora had to do was remain silent, smile here or there, and stay contently to herself in order for the guards to believe she was actually Sigyn. But for Thor, now knowing Amora was an imposter, all he could fixate on were all the attritubes that separated her from Sigyn. When Amora would hum, he would scowl because she sounded <em>nothing<em> like Sigyn. Instead of sweet lullabies sung in a foreign tongue, she would have this bitter note to common songs. While Sigyn was like his mother, poised and collected while comforting, Amora reminded him of _forced_ kindness. She honestly didn't possess the heart in her to even put her heart into her work. He found himself more and more wanting to bash Amora against the wall because of how irritating she had become.

Secondly, Theoric was now a Crimson Hawk. This was of no surprise to Thor considering the half-breed possessed such natural talent in both magic and swordsmanship. He appeared to be such a good fit for Balder's elite soldiers. He conversed easily with the commoners but maintained that sense of leadership without coming off as arrogant. Every other word out of the man's mouth were words of gratitude. Theoric also carried himself now with a deep sense of pride; which arose from fulfilling one of his deepest desires—to protect his home and the people who had chosen to accept him, despite his differences. At near seven foot and with diluted brown skin with blue highlights in the sunlight, Theoric towered over everyone in Asgard. His Jötunn heritage was clear by the dark runes embedded in his skin, red irises, and pink scalera. Intimidating could scarely describe the man. The deep, scars that circled his neck added a menacing edge to the rather soft-hearted teddy bear. Having his chocolate hair weaved into two long braids did nothing to hide his shame. No, he was completely sure Theoric found no shame in his heritage. It was something that was beyond the man's control. Thor couldn't help but feel Theoric was a very intelligent and brave man for arriving at such a controversial conclusion.

Thirdly, Theoric very well knew that _his_ Sigyn was gone. Thor thought him odd for continuing to show such affection that should have been reserved for Sigyn to Amora. He did so openly by how he wrapped his great arm around her feminine frame or sought to steal a kiss whenever the opportunity presented itself. The God was filled with vile disgust for Theoric at first, but then... Thor wondered if Theoric was only pretending to do so. Having not spent anytime with Theoric until just recently, he had no idea to tell how genuine his actions were. At least until he saw that purse of his mother's lips when she joined him one afternoon to exercise the stallions through the city's streets. Then he understood why Sigyn had truly left this realm.

Theoric did not love her back... Not anymore.

"I am happy for Theoric," Frigga commented while her son sat in the window, looking at Asgard. Thor's brows sank closer to his eyes, and his pupils became smaller underneath the additional weight. "Tis about time he found himself a proper woman."

"And what of Sigyn?" Thor asked disapprovingly. "She loves him."

"No, she does not," his mother answered as she spun her threads with ease. "She may say she does, but she and Theoric and have not been close since the feast where Sigyn danced with Loki. Hence forth, moments before the feast, I encouraged Loki to do an act for Sigyn. She and Theoric—" The Goddess put down her threads and needles onto her lap and sighed. "They long ago grew out of love with each other." Thor turned his quizzical, critical stare to his mother. Frigga softened her brown eyes. "People grow and can out grow love, my son. You know this."

He looked down to his feet. "Amora said Sigyn left for Midgard because of Theoric," the God mumbled. "She thought Sigyn departed so she could live vicariously through Jane and me."

Frigga chuckled. "Do not believe every word from the mouth of that enchantress, my son," she advised. "Amora knows not of much. Why, the other day, I overheard her saying Njord is still married to Öndurdís; which is not true. But—" His mother paused. "I have no doubt Sigyn will say Theoric is the reason for her wanting to return to Asgard. That will be only a mask for the real reason she would wish to return."

"Which would be?"

"To come home to her family," she answered sincerely.

He nearly went cross-eyed from confusion. "Why would she need an excuse to deceive people?"

His mother's face became grave. "For the same reason she shall never refer to Njord as her father. I suspect she would find herself disloyal if she claimed her Æsir family more important than her Jötunn family," she enlightened. She put aside her needles and threads to walk to her son and place her cooling hands on him. But all her touches could not erase the distrust he held so unconsciously in his eyes for her. Instead of having a pained expression, the Goddess seemed to accept that look. Her expression, her acceptance, told Thor she had seen the distrust before, and he could easily guessed who the look came from. Thor looked away, causing his mother to sigh. "If you worry so much about Sigyn and wish her home, then go to Jane on Midgard and bring Sigyn home."

"I cannot go to Midgard more than you can fly," Thor dismissed.

Frigga's lips pursed at his words. "Did your father not say at one time that Mjölnir has the power to destroy _and_ create?" He turned his head wildly to his mother. There was the slightest of smirks. She gave him a light pat before heading back to her golden chair. "You know what to do now, my son."

"Why do you tell me this now?" Thor questioned.

The Goddess was already busing herself with her threads. "You needed a light push in the right direction."

He stood. "Did you do the same to Sigyn?" The words came out before he even thought of them.

"She too, needed some guidance to make her decisions," she answered coolly. "The threads _must_ come true."

Thor stormed out of the room. The palace quacked beneath each of his hurried steps. The guards turned their heads towards him, half expecting to see Fenrir charging down foaming at the mouth. Well, Thor wasn't far off from foaming at the mouth from rage. His face was turning deep shades of red and purple, and the veins in his head and neck threatened to explode! The guards scattered away as he approached. Their scattering caught the attention of Sif. Casually dressed and without her numerous weapons dangling from her belt, Thor strolled completely strolled passed her until she shouted, "Thor!" The look he gave her would had been enough to silence her and keep her away, but after dealing with his whimsical nonsense about Jane and those heartfelt pains for herself, she had become accustomed, even numb, to those looks. Instead she huffed before charging right up to him, eager to meet his challenge.

"Go away, Sif," he commanded through a growl. He carried on, but Sif, the warrior she was, kept pace with him. Her feet struck just as loud and hard against the ground as Thor's. "I said go_ away_."

"No," she barked. "I do not cower to enemies, and I do not cower to friends, least of all you, Thor." There was reason in her voice and passion. He stopped in his tracks and looked to Sif. She had her face all scrunched up like a crunched piece of paper. "You need to calm yourself before you go rushing off like you did at Jotunheim."

"I am completely calm," Thor argued, not caring if it was a lie. He couldn't tell if his words were lies at this point; they came too quickly out of his mouth for him to think about like a sane, cool, collected prince. "Did you know about Sigyn? About Amora!" There was no mistaking that all of Asgard could hear their prince yell out his anger and frustration. "And what of _my_ brother?"

"What are you saying?" Sif asked angrily. She closed the gap between them. The heat that came off either of them was near unbearable for her. Thor by his labored breaths clearly was feeling the heat. "I do not know _anything_." Sif paused to collect her thoughts and look over Thor again. He never came this unglued without good reason. "What madness have you discovered?"

"All of Asgard is mad!" he ranted. But the words could barely scratch the surface of what he felt. If he knew the words to say, oh by Odin's beard, Thor would be yelling them out so all the World Tree could know! The God lifted his great arms and Mjölnir to motion to his mother's chambers, to his father's throne room, and to the rest of Asgard. It was all he could do to demonstrate his rage. "I have learned that my mother is the cause for such great unrest."

"What _unrest_?" Sif inquired hastily. She threw a finger to his chest to strike her point. "You know _not_ of _any_ unrest. You have been absent from the assemblies as of late. Do you even know that Thrym has taken the spot as King of Jotunheim? And that he has declared war on Asgard?"

"What?" His facial expression caught up a second later with his bewildered word. But the shock fell immediately into apathy for the situation. It was not his fault nor his problem at this point. After all, why concern himself with people who only sought to tell him half-truths or keep silent about the truth! He hated to admit it, but after how Loki had lied to him, his own brother, he could not help but be paranoid that his whole family might be nothing more than thieves and liars. As shameful as it sounded, Thor was too good to be concerned with thieves and liars. Any consequences they received were deserved.

"Yes!" the Goddess snapped! "But what would you know? You are too caught up with that mortal to even care for your home." Sif looked to him; her eyes were searching his for any sense to use against him to get him to stay. Silently but loudly in her mind, she wanted him to look back at her with the same hurt that was born out of passion. She wanted him to see the passion she held for him every time she was allowed to glance his way. The warrior-maiden yearned for him to stare back at her with that same passion, not caring if it came in the form of fury.

"Maybe I do not consider Asgard my home or these people my family anymore!" Thor growled.

His words hit Sif hard and crushed her lungs. She stumbled back, catching herself on a marble pillar. Her eyes never left his. Sif's jaw hit the ground hard, just like her heart. "Wha-what?" she gasped breathlessly.

"You heard me," he huffed. He swiftly turned his back to her and marched down the steps.

"And what are you going to do? Go for a swim off the waterfall of Asgard?" Sif snarled like an animal. "This is _your_ home, Thor! You live here!"

"No, I will not live in a place full of lies and deceit," he howled. "If you choose so, then that is your decision, Sif, but I will not." His feet could not carry him fast enough to Bifröst. "Tell my father I am going home to Jane," he ordered, as if she was nothing more than the common scum on the bottom of his shoe. He had never felt such relief come from a single sentence, like someone had lifted the world off of his shoulders. The next breath he drew was cool enough to blow out of the fire in his heart. It all came together when Mjölnir lifted him to the sky and guided him to the rainbow bridge. Sif was glad that he was too far gone to see her angry tears fall from her eyes.

He didn't deserve to see them.

Thor, that ungrateful prince, hadn't changed. He was still that arrogant prince.

They, Asgard, didn't deserve someone like him.

No, they deserved something better...

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><p><strong>AN:** Oh, I do love Frigga so much. So dedicated to her threads and ensuring that the future happens exactly how she plans. Tsk. Tsk. But I do love this chapter. Not entirely Sigyn/Loki-centric I know. There were a few things tied in there. Once again, we see that Sigyn too is capable of lying. She and Theoric are not in love. And Theoric is in love with Amora. Gotta wonder, as brought up last chapter, how sincere was Sigyn in what she said? I fear she and Loki have only dug themselves deeper into their graves. Switching gears away from Loki/Sigyn, this chapter is very crucial and sets forth so much to happen. Which, this being a whole Loki/Sigyn story, majorly impacts them. I also felt the need to include why Thor is going to come back to Earth. Do not get me wrong by any means because I do thoroughly believe he would return to Earth to honor his word to Jane; however, I believe he would need more of an incentive to stay on Earth as a full-time Avenger. I guess, what I am saying, is that Thor needed something to give Earth more value to him than Asgard. Family deceit seemed like a pretty good reason why he might believe Earth to be his home over Asgard. Also good because now we have a logical reason how the bridge was repaired. Never doubt the powers of the hammer!


	10. Chapter 10

**Tearing God Asunder**

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><p><strong>AN:** Goddammit, I go to take a 20 minute break from studying and I end up being here for three ours, watching TF3 and writing this whole chapter out.

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><p>Loki had not noticed how much time had actually slipped by him. He was too busy religiously reading any text concerning the Tesseract. The God could not quick figure out what exactly was so special about this artifact; other than the fact his sorcery was increased ten-fold. He quite enjoyed relishing in the Cosmic Cube's power for hours. He had successfully turned an inanimate object into a small singing bird as companion for his magpie, but the ungrateful Erik was never satisfied. All he ever seemed to do was squawk out his complaints. More often than not, Loki was questioning why he went to so much trouble of placing the mortal's mind in such an irritating body, but, just as quickly, he was reminded of all the troubles Erik could cause if he could speak in a tongue that someone could understand. The trickster knew he should have simply wiped Erik's mind free of what bits he learned from Loki on that day he saw Sigyn lonely in the fat mortal's tavern.<p>

His hand brushed over the dusty text in a rotting book; the God's eyes were sullen and swollen from having to glance over another text that made reference to Sigyn. Then the amount of time he had ignore was now in his face. Loki reclined in chair and stared blankly out of the window at the vast expanse of the mountains. Fenris was down there at the moment, flopping through the snow and making doggie snow-angles. Then eagerly, his attention would be caught on some stray animal. Like the hunter he was, the wolf would charge after the stray animal with foam coming form his mouth. But today, Fenris' efficient hunting could not brighten his mood. The weeks weighed too heavily on him. Amazing how in a few weeks he had come to feel like a prisoner within the old Hydra headquarters. In these moments, Loki knew he dove into the text for more than the possibility of exploring all the uses of the Tesseract. He dove into the text to avoid Sigyn.

It was ridiculous that he held himself up in a room, granted a large and spacious room, but a room nonetheless.

He was eternally grateful for the mortal servants who brought him his meals and made avoiding Sigyn easier. Well, he had not been grateful at first when he learned she had dared to bring mortals into his home, but now ... he couldn't imagine living without them. Each were so distinct and unique that Loki would have them run idiotic errands just so he could understand how they functioned. He learned what angered them and made them smile. They were all unique: Erik and Kevin Masterson, Jack Olson, Sybil Chambers, and Freda Barker. However, they were all connected to the fact they were practicing pagans in Norse religion. Sybil was remarkable because she did not worship the Æsir gods; she turned to instead the Rokkor gods like Sigyn and the Jötunn. She often fought with Freda Barker, a stout Æsir fangirl. The two men and teenage boy were neutral and said it was not their place to make judgments on the Gods or become involved in their complex politics.

Loki sighed. Both irritated and desperate, he forced himself out of the room. Erik the magpie hitched a ride onto the God's shoulders. It wasn't often that he was able to escape this room. To be quite honest, that little yellow finch was irritating him with its nonsense. Even as a bird, Erik couldn't understand bird. Irony at its best, he 'sposed. But Erik knew this was worse than he thought when Loki didn't growl at him for using him as a cab instead of hobbling along behind him like a _real_ pet. Loki didn't even bother to glance at him. Yes, today was a _very_ bad day. It always seemed that on those days when Loki was quiet and like steel, he was the most fragile and introverted. Those were the times Erik worried the most because he couldn't see how much it would take for Loki to break and go ballistic. It was like walking across ice that he didn't know could support him or not _and_ not knowing how deep the water was beneath them _and_ not knowing whether the water was calm or a raging whirlpool. With the trickster, it was hard to tell on a good day. He was like a roller coaster of emotions. One moment he was at the top of the world with his ego dwarfing the sun; then the next he was at rock bottom. It was exhausting to keep up with the man, er God.

Loki grumbled something underneath his breath, but Erik failed to catch the words.

Down several corridors and halls, Loki and his companion emerged into the built in air strip now turned into a garden. It was the first time since before Sigyn that Loki had come down to this wide expanse. Well, at least he knew what Sigyn had been up in the past weeks. The trickster moved slower to take his time to observe her handy work. This also explained the complaints he heard from Jake and Erik the human nearly evening when they complained of their aching muscles. He smirked. So much like Sigyn to push them to finish all their duties. Their hardwork had paid handsomely. Almost every inch of concrete was covered in grass, but there were a few places that remained exposed. There were random patches where the grass was higher because of having more sunlight. In those same places grew small bushes with black fruit. Popping up spaciously across the open area were various wild flowers. That would explain why there had been a sudden explosion of bouquets; including the one that rested on his desk and the other on the nightstand beside his bed.

Sigyn had gone far out of her way to turn this into a typical Vanir garden. There was no order to where the plants sprouted, and where they sprouted is where they stayed. Instead of high bushes to organize the garden into sections according to the flowers or fruit, this place was nothing more than a wide field. One or two trees grew in the open. They stretched up towards the ceiling with their branches desperately trying to latch onto something. There was no possible way that these trees had grown into adults without magic. From one such tree hung a small, hand-made swing. He smiled approvingly and almost fondly at Sigyn's innocence. In the field were rusted vehicles from the time when this base used to be active. All of them had some sort of vine growing on them; but some where filled with dirt and more wild vegetation while others were left empty and refernished to be used as a rest of some sort. Ingenious and beautiful, Loki had forgotten how creative Sigyn was with greenery. He turned his gaze to the walls; something until now he had neglected. Wild vines shot up them and to the ceiling, using the cracks as footholds. In the corner, the _far_ corner, was an almost perfect circle of sand. Inside the center was a large fire pit that burned low and crackled. But in the daylight, the fire's light was lost. Very fitting, next to the fire was a small pond. The bottom of which was composed of white sand and stood out brightly in the teal-tinted water.

She had outdone herself.

He loved the outcome; the unorganized mess was beautiful.

Erik the magpie sprung from Loki's shoulders to stretch his wings. The God heeded him no attention. His attention had focused on a small collection of rocks that formed a small and circular fence that was about as high as his waist. Curiously he walked towards the structure. This was not like Vanir architect at all to seclude and organize their garden. No, that type belonged distinctly to the Æsir. He hopped over the fence with ease when he discovered there was not even a gate. Immediately he knew why and wished he hadn't hopped over the fence.

The grass here was short and dark, mournful looking because of the lack of sunlight. Heavy moss grew along the inside of the walls. The water collected on their outside in huge teardrops. At the North wall of the circle were two small patches of concrete. Written on the inside of either were Váli and Narfi. On top of Váli's stone were several articles that included a small burning candle, two coins, and a white flag folded up with the peace sign, symbolized by two fingers for victory, laying across its soft fabric. For Narfi were an old jar of sea shells, another old jar filled with ocean sand at the bottom and salt water at the top, and a small toy ship. He understood why the wall had been erected.

Sigyn didn't wish to be reminded of what she no longer had.

Loki knew that the only person in this base who would do such a horrible act of bringing the past to life. He flew over the fence, speedily walking out of the garden to hunt down the human. He couldn't pinpoint where his sudden rage came from, but it was there burning away his insides. The air was crackling around him. That too was something new. The longer he exposed himself to the Tesseract, the longer its magical properties lingered in him. When his restraints began to fall, so did his restraints over his sorcery; it was something that was beyond his control, even during the days when his restraints were at their best. It irritated him that he had no control over the one aspect of his life he had always had control over. Hearing the crackles in the air and small sizzles with each step he took when his feet burned the tips of the grass, acted as a catalyst.

"SYBIL!" The God screamed out his order. The echoes from his shrill demand rung in his ears long after he called her name.

The young lady came scampering to her God. At 23 years of age, she still resembled something of a 10 year old girl. She was flat-chested with large, doughy brown eyes, dirty blond hair that fell to the middle of her back in a straight line, and a puffy, child's face. To compensate for her young age, she applied far too much make-up and dressed in scrimpy clothing. If she had any goods, they would be showing, but she didn't. She never would either, thank Odin. Sybil dropped to her knees before Loki and bowed, pressing her forehead against the cold, steel ground. "You call, my God?" she asked in her Mini Mouse voice.

"What are the names Váli and Narfi doing inside the gardens?" he spat.

"They are the names to your sons," she answered meekly. "I merely gave a shrine to each of them; to honor those children who had their childhoods stolen from them."

"Remove them, _now_," Loki demanded. He yanked her up onto her feet roughly by her hair. Sybil made a small squeak but held back most of of her soft cry. "Do you realize what pain you have brought to Sigyn? She built up a wall around your so called shrines."

"B-b-but—"

"You would disobey your God?" he retorted.

"No," she replied hastily and loyally. "I would _never_ betray _you_, but Sigyn—" She darted her eyes to the hallway that led to the Goddess' chambers. "She approved of it. She smiled and had happy tears coming from her eyes. Sh-sh-she was _thankful _that someone besides her cared for her children. Si-si-sigyn had the wall put up so Fenris w-w-would not disturb it. She liked the idea of a quiet place for them." Sybil wasn't prepared for Loki's blank face. He stared through her as if she never existed. With a quick nod of her head to him, Sybil took advantage of the moment to retreat away.

Loki lingered there for some time. If someone were to breath on him, the God might just fall over. How—his face contorted and distorted underneath the stress, but soon was pulled tight from the anger that spun out of grief. He still couldn't grasp the idea that Sigyn thought he—Loki's fingers curled together into a tight fist. The air began to crackle around him as tiny bolts of lightening came alive for a moment. His face twitched in time with the bolts. Beyond his own control but in align with his desires, Loki vanished into smoke. The smoke came together inside Sigyn's chambers. They too were spacious and filled with hanging flowers and very little furniture, but all he could feel was the cage collapsing down on him. "Do you think I do not care?" he growled primitively. The God breathed through his mouth, where he swore he could feel tiny flames and smoke emanating. From her black futon bed, Sigyn sprung to her feet. Her eyes darted to Lævateinn that rested in the sunlight from her large window. Furious, Loki stepped in front of her gaze and moved closer in for the kill. "Do you?" he asked again; his words were barely legible.

Sigyn stepped backwards out of instinct from him, just as she did with Odin. At the moment, he was intimidating as Odin the way power just radiated from him like light and heat did the sun. She too fear like primitive people that if she wandered too close to him, she might burn. "To what are you referring?" the Goddess asked; there was a forced calm to her voice that only unnerved her husband more. Instead of cutting in two more words, Sigyn chewed on her tongue like in ol' times.

"Váli and Narfi!" His hand shout out in the direction of the garden. Beyond his control, flares of lightening crackled and arched and left burn marks along the floor and wall. They ignited small fires in the vegetation. She jumped backwards and lost her footing. Landing on her bed and bottom, Sigyn couldn't tear her eyes away from his wild look. Yeah, that was what he was, a hurt, wild animal. They were the most dangerous, the most volatile. Again he availed in smoke and reappeared before her. She could see the tears coming down his face. "They were _my_ sons!" He made jerky hand motions over his heart. The God was completely oblivious to the sizzling and burning smell of his leather chest piece. She simply stared back at him; words failed her. He was unsatisfied. Loki took another step so that her legs were between his feet. "Did you hear me?" he interrogated in a hushed voice.

"From where are you getting this?" Sigyn asked.

Her words only tore his heart further away from his chest, ripping it into uneven pieces along the way. His whole body convulsed from the pain. "Answer the god damn question!" He knelt down and lunged for her neck with his hands, but she wrapped her both of her hands around his wrist. From her grip, he saw the edges flicker blue as she subtly undid Odin's magic, but it was hardly enough to affect little more than the area she touched. The little blue rose petals fell. But Loki heeded her magic for no more than a moment. His tears fell from his chin and onto her chest. "I _loved_ them too."

"I never said you did not," she defended. The calm finally began to retreat from her voice, but in place of anger came only a water voice; much weaker than she would have liked. Too familiarly she found herself with the tears coming down her face. She too heaved from loss of their sons. Sigyn removed a hand from his wrist to clutch the cloth around her womb. It was a desperate grasping motion for people who had lived there for nine months but no longer. Loki jerked her wrist out of her grasp and weaved his fingers through her as he pinned one hand to the bed. "Why would I question something I already know?" She took several breaths before squeezing his hand. "You loved either of them, just as I did. You _and_ I, we neither held them but that did not meant we did not love them?"

Loki did not know exactly how to respond. His cluttered mind was filled between the present and past. He moved left hand over her soft stomach. The last time he had touched her there, her stomach had been firm; the God had felt the harsh kicks from his son. Now though, he felt nothing. Like Sigyn, he fingers could grasp only the cloth. That was no substitute for what should have been there. "That is not what the mortal said!" Loki croaked out in a splitting voice.

"You would believe a mortal over the _mother_ of _our_ children?" Sigyn spat. The heartbreak was clear in her voice. "And _you_, Loki, are the _father_ of _our_ children. That _cannot_ be changed. I would not change that because you would have been a _great_ father. This I know."

Her words rained down on him like daggers. No longer hers? Not his? _Theirs?_ H-h-he d-d-didn't know what to think of those words. From his confusion only came more rage. "How would you know? I _never_ had a chance to be a father!"

The regret was shared mutually between them, shown by Sigyn's strained smile. "Because I know of no other man who told their unborn sons stories and said goodnight to them _every_ night since the night I told you I was with a child." She took that same hand from he stomach to wipe away the tears from his eye. He tensed beneath her touch, and that very same eye twitched. Paranoid as always, Loki searched her eyes for the reason for showing such comfort. She had never been this intimate when offering her compassion before, _never_. So he searched for a motive and the advantage she would gain from such actions. "I know no other person with such extreme enthusiasm. Your passion is the reason why I dared not lie any other man but you in case I happened to be with a child again—any father besides you would be lacking. And Váli and Narfi lived short lives, but they had the best father." She shuddered at the images of purple infants being wrapped in quilts and stolen from her sight. Those were their children and they were being taken away? No. Th-th-they couldn't! No! _NEVER!_ "I-I-I-I a-a-a-am s-s-so-sorry," she sobbed."I-I—"

Loki slipped beside her and curled up next to her. He buried his head into her wild hair. The God wrapped his his arms around her, knowing all too well the guilt she carried inside her. He had only heard about it from his mother over a thousand times, but this was the first he had ever seen it. He desperately wished it would be the last. The God cared never to see the mother of his children drowning in her own tears; and she, he felt it through their threads, cared not to see him so vulnerable like a mortal either. He kept his fingers thoroughly weaved through hers while he wept beside her. That touch was reassuring there was one other person who knew his deeper sorrows, who knew that same pain, and who shared something in common with him that ran deeper than any words or blood. He stayed there holding onto her; her holding onto him. Neither could comfort the other in such great sorrow, only find common ground. Through the common ground they wept, even when their eyes ran dry and their voices all but gave out. Loki gripped onto her with more possessiveness for she was the first kindred soul he had found. She alleviated the loneliness that had been there his entire life. If only it had been under better conditions...

Perhaps his mother had been right all a long.

Maybe he should not have married Sigyn; avoid this entire tragedy.

"If I could become a time traveler, I would not have had this happen," he murmured.

But it was too late for regrets.

Sigyn rolled over and tucked her head close to his chest, to his heart. "What is done is done. It cannot be undone," she informed, even though he already knew. "I would never undo the events because I enjoyed being a mother, for however short a time." Her fingers wrapped around his jacket as she used it as a blanket while she snuggled next to his body. "I enjoyed being on the same side as you."

"Same," he agreed in a low whisper.

Their eyes met, both silently asking, _"Why not?"_

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><p><strong>AN:** Oh, I promise there will be a Jane/Thor reunion ahead!

On nerdy notes, there are several tributes in this chapter. One, in the current Thor, child!Loki has a pet called Ikol, who has all the memories of his past life. I love Erik too much to let him die, so... This seemed suitable for him. Secondly, Erik and Kevin Masterson and Jack Olson are real characters from Thor. Sybil Chambers is a combination of Sif's nicknames on Earth. Freda Barker is a tribute to Frigga's mortal name. The mortals came in because Sigyn is not the type who is going to be wanting to do house keeping. She is royalty and spoiled and is used to having other people do that for her.

With that out of the way, time to just ramble. Well, I had to come up with a way to make time pass. Hence why in the last chapter Thor says its been like 6 weeks or so. I just imagine there being this whole awkward silence between Sigyn and Loki for a good while after that. Partially her avoiding him, and him avoiding her. And no one wants to read about where Loki is just studying the Tesseract for like ten chapters. So make time go fast so that they actually interact. And originally I was not going to have them met over the shrines, but, with their children being the center of where all their problems originated, it seemed highly unlikely the two would make any progress without addressing this first. And no, their relationship isn't going to be magically fixed overnight now. There is still so much lack of communication between then; however, at least they have found common ground. That is a start. Everything has to start somewhere.


	11. Chapter 11

**Tearing God Asunder**

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><p><strong>AN: **Hot damn! I didn't expect_ so many_ reviews, favs, alerts, and, wow, just wow! Thank you all for so much love! I'm just, wow. _I'm blown away!_

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><p>Loki recalled lying next to Sigyn as they both answered with hundreds, if not thousands of reasons, why they could never be on the same side. Yet, very obviously, there was still one reason, one form of common ground, that they both shared—they were not welcomed in Asgard. Wasn't one reason good enough? That was the debate he found himself arguing as he closed his eyes. But somewhere in between there and now, the God had fallen asleep. And now, Sigyn was sitting on the bed, hunched over like a commoner of all things, in front of her MacBook Pro, busily typing away at an impressive speed. He watched while she typed, content to hear the clicking of the keys... for a moment. "What are you writing?" Loki asked neutrally, not putting too much thought or emotion into his voice.<p>

"An electronic letter of notice," Sigyn answered. "I have been in contact with a person who has tamed several zebra. I am informing her that I have sent Jake in my place to go exchange the monetary currency for the herd. I also sent out another electronic mail to Jake to retrieve the saddles I special ordered as well."

"You, _what_?" he inquired bewildered. Loki lifted his stiff body up to sit next to Sigyn. He cocked his head to the side to read the words better across the screen. "A herd?" he asked. His wide eyes slid to Sigyn. Was she insane? He was starting to believe so.

She shrugged. "Zebra are a true exotic here on Midgard. Very few of them are broken." The Goddess quickly opened a new tab and image searched for Zebra. Loki watched as image after image she brought up onto the screen. "Are they not more beautiful than Sleipnir?" she proposed. Loki's initial reaction was to snort since he had been Sleipnir's creator, and his pride had always been stroked because Sleipnir was the most beautiful and strongest stallion in all of Asgard. But—Loki's frown curled into the smallest of smiles—there was something strange in stripes, their manes, and their build that did make them beautiful in their own, unique way. "Of course, they are only the size of large ponies. But I have always enjoyed riding ponies far more than horses. They are far more durable and adorable."

"And so you bought a herd of them without my consent?" he asked dryly.

"I do not need your permission to make myself happy," Sigyn answered sharply. "You know I enjoy a good horse back ride." She giggled lightly as she ran her hands through his hair as if it were a mane. "But do not worry, you will always be the _prettiest_ mare."

Loki groaned. "That was a spell that went wrong," he reminded. "I was trying to turn Thor's hammer into a horse."

"And then it bounced back and the youngest prince was turned into a gray horse," she finished. "I enjoyed you as a horse. You were smooth and easy to guide. You were very pretty with those long braids in your mane and single braid in your tail." She sighed contently as she began to mindlessly begin to braid Loki's black hair. Loki rolled his eyes but said nothing. "We have nine new Zebra coming; five mares, two stallions, and two geldings. I should warn you, I have a pack of trained hunting dogs coming _tonight_." She quickly abandoned the braid to go bring up more images of Saluki dogs. Loki ran his hand through his hair to undo the braid. "I have a fairly large pack, seven or so, of these dogs coming tonight. Freda has gone to fetch them. Kevin, him still being only thirteen years, I said could go to the Animal Shelter and pick out a few more members to fill out the pack."

Loki grasped the bridge of his thin nose. "You are turning this into the hall of your father," he mumbled.

She grinned approvingly at his statement. "Aye, but, in his hall, we had upwards of forty dogs in a _single_ pack. We had _many_ packs, if you recall. How else were we to hunt the deer and boar so efficiently? Bows and arrows and blow pipes only get someone so far in the hunt." The God groaned, already imagining the peaceful silence coming to a close. Sigyn only giggled at his expense. "But ah, I forget that Loki and his family never needed to hunt for their dinners. And if I recall, I was the one who taught Loki how to throw knives and gut a lamb."

Loki smirked. "Yes, you did, Sigyn," he confirmed. He went silent as he thought back to those far off days of his youth. It seemed like it was in another life when he was with Sigyn, riding bareback through Asgard's mountain range to track a herd of reindeer. The young girl he could vaguely remember now. The trickster stared at Sigyn, seeing only traces of that wild child who dressed like a princess and ran around her father's hall barefoot like the rest of the Vanir children. But he knew that wild child was still there; he had felt her wrath when she attempted to behead him with her sword. Yet, a sadness lingered along the rims of his irises. She had indeed changed so much since their childhood. Her accent was gone as per his mother and father's advice. Sigyn wore shoes at to and from, not during, the assemblies and feast. She had given up riding bareback for saddles. She gave up hunting because that was not needed in Odin's hall, and not something to be endorsed as a princess' hobby. Sigyn had given up much of her Vanir heritage when she married him, and only now did he realize it. "Is it natural now?"

"Is what natural, Loki?" she asked.

"Your speech," he clarified.

"No," she said simply. "This is all forced."

"You have no need to keep up the charade. We are not in Asgard anymore," Loki suggested.

She was quiet, taking in what he had said and how the words weighed so much that the chains placed upon her from Asgard shattered. Though her grin shrunk, there was much more happiness in that small curve. "'Hen am I allowed 'ta hoont once more?" Sigyn asked. Loki was the one to happily chuckle at her Vanir accent; even if he couldn't keep up with her words.

"So long as you bring some animal for Freda to use for dinner on the days you hunt," Loki said as he laid down the agreement.

"I can do 'ha," she confirmed arrogantly. She tore her eyes away from his and back to her computer screen. Loki curiously watched as Sigyn mindlessly typed away and flip through her e-mails, sending out what last letters needed to be sent out. In all, he found himself pleasantly watching. He had spent the majority of his time on Earth completely ignoring this thing called the Internet; probably because all he had really cared about was his iPad and this Angry Birds Game, and had failed to spend the time setting up all the requirements to have Internet in the headquarters. He had not been particularly interested in the Internet either... until Sigyn. Like a heroine addict being introduced to heroine for the first time, Loki was hooked. He was content to follow along, learn in silence, and just soak up all that the Internet had to offer.

Sigyn eventually came to Youtube. Her first reaction was a crinkling of her nose at the top headline. With a simple click, she was redirected to a livestream video. Some bimbo mortal with probably no brains, aside from reading the teleprompter, was blabbering on about the strange phenomena occuring in the skies across the world, from Norway to New Mexico. The air felt eletretic; the source was not surprisingly Loki. She hesitantly looked to him. The God's eyes were narrowed to shifty, angery, and loathing slits, and his mouth was scowling. She too would have been scowling, but with him, Loki, beside her and like a bomb that was bound to go off at some point, took priority over the brooding clouds on the computer screen. "He is coming," was all Sigyn said.

"I know," the trickster grumbled. He stood abruptly and headed towards the door.

"You have no idea from where he will emerge," she pointed matter-of-factly. Loki stopped to hear her out. "The first action you are going to do is combat Thor?" There was no ignoring her condoning tone. Sigyn folded her arms unimpressed across her chest. "You will only have that pretty little head and neck of yours ripped from your shoulders."

Did she just call him pretty? He quickly pushed away the thought to make room for more important things. "I can stand my own ground," Loki growled. Indeed he could. He had actually stood fairly well against Thor in their first and last engagement. Now that he possessed the Tesseract, Loki was more than confident Thor would be easily squashed like a mortal.

"Let me reiterate the warning I meant to give you weeks ago," she spoke with slight irritation to her voice. "Thor and the rest of Asgard knows you are alive. Heimdall has seen you and informed them. Let me tell you, Thor would destroy the World Tree if it meant saving his precious mortal from you. He is waiting for you to pay Jane that visit you promised him."

"Is he?" he mused. A sinister smile began to form along his lips at the promise he had forgotten.

"Loki!" Her sharp, shrill call of his voice ruined his thoughts. His poor bubble seemed to have been popped. "Let him go this time. It would be better for him to see his mortal is in one piece before you engage him, especially in _this_ state."

"What _state_?" Loki lashed out. Sigyn's eyes slid to her damaged plants and then back to him. All the while, the room heated up several degrees. He quieted down as he surveyed the damage he had done earlier. It was impressive but...

"You have no control over the Tesseract," she said in case he forgot. "You may kill Thor, but you may end up killing yourself in the process."

In her voice, he could hear the subtle message that she tried to disguise so hard with her Æsir accent: you may kill me. Instead of having concern, Loki smirked. It wasn't entirely easy to frighten Sigyn. "Practice makes perfect," Loki purred. "Thor is an acceptable sparring partner. Much better than any mortal, no?"

"Yes," she gritted.

"Then why should I _not_ engage him?" he asked. The false sincerity to his voice earned himself a pleasant—at least to his ears—growl from Sigyn. Loki leaned against the door frame innocently. "I cannot engage you in magic because we are married."

She stood quickly. "Then divorce me, and I will be your sparring partner," Sigyn suggested quickly.

The God blinked absently at her remark. He was completely blown away. Loki scrambled to gather his thoughts. "I have no intention of divorcing you," he remarked coolly. She could hear the creaking in the air as his anger shifted from Thor to her. Sigyn stood stunned, either out of fear, out of the need to calm Loki, or perhaps both. Loki sauntered back to her. "If I did that, then you would go merrily skipping to the arms of that half-breed," Loki hissed. He gently cupped her chin with two fingers. She jerked back, disgusted. The windows shattered. The harsh mountain winds came rushing into her room. She shivered, more from _him_ than the wind. But this time he did not smirk or smile or had any form of glee on his face. Loki was cold like the wind.

"Asgard is _our_ home," she reminded.

"No, Asgard is _not_ my home," he clarified in a steel voice. The God looked down at her with a stare that forced her to keep her eyes on his. "Asgard _ought not_ be your home either. What has Asgard done for you? They shall _never_ accept you, just as they shall never accept me. I spent my entire life trying to change Asgard; show them that not all strength can be measured in brawn. I am the very epitome of what they do not desire. I could not change their minds. What makes you think that you can change them, Sigyn?" He paused for a second where his eyes became cloudy. "Do you believe you can change their minds to believe that women are equal to men? Sif and Amora are the only two Asgardians who support your claim. I would throw in Karnilla, but she is not Asgardian. Even Sif and Amora are not well received by the majority. You have experienced for yourself the criticism. Do you ever believe that they would accept your accent? Your heritage?"

Loki turned away from her and walked towards the windows. The class crunched underneath him like ice. "Asgard is the realm eternal. That is a very fitting description since Asgard _never_ changes." He placed his hand over the jagged edges of the glass. He felt the pressure points build but never to the point where they would piece his skin. "Midgard is the realm of constant change. Here, _our_ desires can become real. This realm _ought_ to be our home." He let out a deep breath. "I give you this ultimatum, Sigyn. Choose this realm as your home and align with me, and I can promise that you shall not be disappointed. Choose to align with Asgard, and I will ensure you suffer properly."

"You broke your promise to not make promises," Sigyn chided.

Then he grinned. "I break promises all the time." He sounded so casual about it, so unconcerned. Loki looked to her again, but the Goddess could not read the message in his eyes or know whether he was condoning her actions or merely deciding what course of action to take for her wicked tongue. Or, and this was a last second occurrence to her, was he waiting on her answer? "You have until I return from welcoming my brother to decide." She was too relieved when the God turned from her and began marching towards the door. "Tell one of the damn mortals to fix the bloody window," he barked.

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><p><strong>AN: **First off, I found time to scribble this thing out because half of my teachers decided not to give midterms last minute. Pretty awesome. I love them now.

Back onto topic... This is more of a filler chapter for the new Super Smash Brothers: Norse!Version to come.

Oh damn, Sigyn and her blasted internet. Someone needs to rip her laptop away from her before she goes off and decides to go buy a herd of baby elephants on the black market. Now I see why Asgardians are not suppose to have internet. I can already tell she is gonna become the most techy god. And probably a die hard Mac supporter. PC users beware! And now she has just introduced Loki to the internet. Oh Jesus, please help us.

Well, I'm off! It's homecoming weekend, and I need to go cheer on my college! _**Go BIG BLUE!**_

Even though, no one has any fucking idea what big blue is...


	12. Chapter 12

**Tearing God Asunder**

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><p><strong>AN:** MIDTERMS ARE OVER! _WHOOOOOOOOOOT!_

**ALSO, Avengers Trailer came out today.** We see in the trailer Loki blowing shit up and that. Well, to clarify, this story (right now) is between Capt. and the Avengers. It will eventually bleed into the Avengers.

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><p>The storm was brooding over the Swedish forest, moaning and groaning. Through the thick, gray clouds were shards of lightening that glimmered with the colors of the rainbow. Loki glanced down to see the Celtic knots woven intricately into each other, inseparable. He looked up to the sky again. A strong bolt of bolt's reflection glimmered off his helm in abstract ways. The air smelled of tension, and it was beginning to wear on him. Even when Loki had planned to ruin Thor's coronation, he had known that they were inseparable and never wished for that to change. He had been genuine when he told Sif that none of them loved Thor as dearly as he. The God had never wished for Thor to have been banished. And no, the two brothers never had the perfect relationship, but what they had had, was a great relationship. He envied Thor for his spotlight, and Thor envied Loki for his silver tongue. Thor was always dragging Loki along, or Loki was involving Thor in his pranks. It was wherever one brother went, the other was close by. They were as close as twins. So yes, inseparable they had been.<p>

Thor seemed keen on making sure they stayed inseparable.

But it would be different this time... Even different than their last fight. Loki sighed miserably and a bit heartbroken-ly at the memory. During their last encounter, he had always thought he and his brother were still on the same side; up until the final moments before he let go. All the fighting before those moments had just been a way to vent out his frustration. Thor perhaps knew so and showed this understanding when he placed the hammer over Loki's chest. Thinking about it now, that had been a strange turn of events. For Loki had always been the one to cool his brother and set him straight, but in that moment, Thor was the one trying to calm him. He sighed again at Thor the Admirable, and he bowed his head to the truth he could not deny. In his heart, Loki wept for what they had lost and prepared for what was to come.

This would be different.

This would be the _defining_ moment of their new relationship.

To his own distaste, he would be the first to engage Thor. But he could not allow Thor to finish whatever he had started in Asgard. If Thor found a way to Midgard, then what was to say that his father would not come for him? For that matter, all of Asgard? He could not simply allow for the Great Allfather to come destroy his plans as he did with Laufey. Loki glowered to the heavens. He would not make the same mistakes. No, he would be greater than his biological father in every way. He swore in his mind he would become greater than his father. But in order for any of that to do so, he needed to keep a certain parasite at bay. Which left him with a very undesirable option. No, the worst option in the opinion of his heart.

He had to go meet Thor on his own ground.

Loki regrettably vanished.

Another trick he had learn about the Tesseract, by complete accident, was that his abilities to avail could actually be practical. He no longer had need for the secret branches that connected all nine realms in the Celtic knot of the World Tree—the God could simply picture the location and be there. Sometimes he made the decision conscious, like now, and other times, he had no control over it. But Loki could not concern himself with his own lack of discipline. Not now. Not as the world around him vanished in smoke and was replaced by the balcony that once belonged to him. The God clutched his staff tighter in his hands while he other hand wandered onto the gold railing. The smooth feeling of the gold hurt and only reminded him of what was no longer his. But that spark inside of him burned brighter. This would be what he would achieve on Midgard. His determined eyes instantly guided him to the jagged edges of the bridge, where the sounds of thunder ripping a world apart echoed loud enough to cause mild pain to his ears. Without any command, the world once again turned to smoke.

The world condensed around him; the bridge was underneath his feet, Thor with his mighty hammer was in the midst of summoning something, Heimdallr was behind him in his poised position, and the ocean was turning below them. The first word to come to his mind was the first word out of the trickster's mouth. "_Damn._" The familiar sound of his brother's voice broke Thor's concentration, but Heimdallr's first reaction was to strike. Loki met the guard's strong strike with his staff.

"Loki!" Thor cried.

But he did not hear his name over the sound of Heimdallr groaning. With an awe too simple but satisfying slid of his hand, Heimdallr was thrown back onto his side. Loki swerved so his back was no longer to Thor but to Heimdallr. Beneath him the ocean stirred with greater force while the air crackled and hissed. He glowered at Thor, and his brother an had equal stare back at him. There were no words to be said. The time had been too short between them since _then_ and _now_. Even if they could speak, even if they wanted to speak, no words would convey the raw burn that his brother's betrayal left in Thor's eyes or the frustration that rose from Loki like the magma from Múspellsheimr. Loki directed the sharp, curved tips of the golden staff to Thor. His brother understood but not without a regrettably frown and remorseful tears along the rims of his eyes.

"_Brother._"

Neither knew who exactly whispered the gently plea wrapped up in a single word that transcended so many levels and memories, but it was met with the clear clashing of the staff against the hammer. Loki forgot his spells as clash after clash their weapons met. Above them, the storm brewed. The rain relentlessly began to bite at every inch of exposed skin. Thor would charge forward. Loki would give into his charge but slither away before Mjölnir would squashed his head. The trickster lashed out at Thor's legs and brought his brother to the ground. A dark, pleased chuckle came from his lips. A bit of his heart felt some sort of sick relief in his brother's pain. Thor _deserved_ this in his eyes.

Desperate, the Thunderer threw out his hammer to his brother. Loki yelped! His staff _clattered_ to the ground. He shot a hand to his chest, cradelling the broken shards of his gold armor. He forced himself to straight. In perfect time to be tackled to the ground by Thor. His big brother's hands clutched his wrists and forced them to the cold feeling of the bridge. He jerked beneath Thor, but the Thunderer only grunted as he restrained his younger brother. But he would not be subdued by mere brawn this time. Loki pulled his legs close to his chest and then kicked out at Thor's chest. The force was enough to catch his brother off guard and cast him off. He quickly covered his quick strike with a quick, white fireball to Thor's cloak.

While Thor was ripping the red cape from his shoulders, the trickster's fingers curled around the fine, smooth edges of his staff. He turned on his feet to face his brother. Thor, like him, was heaving to catch his breath. The hammer hung in his hand at his side like a loyal dog. Loki eyed the weapon hesitantly. He had been the bad end of that weapon one time _too_ many. Though he could feel the power of the Tesseract coursing through his flesh and blood, it could not wipe away the feeling of fear of having that weapon placed upon his chest and losing before he could even begin to conquer Midgard.

Failure was not an option.

Not this time.

Only over his dead body.

For what it was worth, Thor too realized this. His knuckles bled white from his tight grip on Mjölnir. Between the two waring gods flashed embers that lasted for a blink of an eye. Their vicious, bloody red light made the rain that dripped down their heads appear to be like blood. At his heels, Loki felt the heat of fire urging him to charge and strike, be like that wild bull. He could not deny the want. The trickster lunged once more at Thor with strength that both surprised himself and his brother. The Thunderer slid over the edge of the bridge, but instead of falling into the water, he headbutted Loki in his weakened armor. The little brother fell, skidded, and rolled to a gruesome stop on the opposite ledge of the bridge. Thor remained suspended in the air with his wild hair flipping back and forth in the torrent. His eyes rested on his younger brother, watching as he stumbled to stand. The bridge creaked eerily at his every fumbling step. As Loki straightened himself, the top, protective shell of the bridge shattered around him.

Thor threw his hammer out in the direction of Loki. The wild bolts of lightening arched and hissed. Half of scream came Loki when they struck him, and their shock cut out of his voice. He slumped to the side. The shattered shell crunched and cushioned him. The trickster couldn't keep his eyes opened. Not after that. Just keeping himself from slipping into the darkness was draining his strength. He could hear with more clarity the sharp clicks and clatter that came the rain as it hit the bridge. It was in time with his heart beat when the strongest waves of rain came. This, all around him, was not done by Thor but himself. It was no wonder to him now why he fell so easily against Thor. He poured too much of his sorcery into everything around him. He couldn't even breathed out the word _fuck_. But the word was loud in his head and full of frustrated regret.

Sigyn had been right.

He felt his bigger brothers presence next to him; there was no way he could not hear the thud of his ungraceful landing. Thor knelt beside Loki and placed a hand over the burnt, exposed skin on his right shoulder. A low hiss emanated from Loki. He didn't even know he had that wound. How many more were there then that he couldn't feel? "Heimdallr," he voice rumbled defensively. Thor glanced from his injured and bleeding brother to the old guard. If the panic had not set in, it did now. Loki could very well feel his raw skin rubbing against the shards of the bridge. He only breathed faster from the pain, causing more in a sick cycle that kept going.

"You have done well, son of Odin," he spoke through his usual monotone. "The enemy has been captured."

All the blood drained form his face, leaving the Thunderer looking ill from the guard's words. He felt ill from the words. A ravenous rumble echoed from Thor's throat. "My brother is _no_ enemy."

Heimdallr stared not afraid at Thor, unblinking and uncaring. "Your king has decreed him an enemy of Asgard," he repeated with more clarity. "He will be disposed of like any other enemy that has dared to cross the borders of Asgard."

"You will do _no_ such action!" he declared.

"Then you have defied your king as well, son of Odin," he stated rhetorically. Swiftly and gracefully he twisted his blade through the fabric and leather to pierce the second son's flesh, just below the right shoulder blade. The sound of the bone crunching was drowned out in Loki's sharp cry. His eyes opened to their maximum, displaying a pupil only the size of a pen tip in the center of irises that shined with highlights composed of the rainbow. There was no thought behind those eyes, just pain. Out of reaction, his instincts took him to the first place he could think...

_Home. _

But the relief he felt when the sharp shards were replaced with cool steel was cut short when Thor's form condensed into a body, which only meant Heimdallr came along with. Again, before either of the Asgardians, could move, the world became smokey. The world reformed just in time for Loki hack up a ball of blood onto the perfectly white, icy snow. He couldn't careless how the blood tasted on his mouth or how most it stuck to the side of his face and clothing and froze within seconds of coming in contact with the relentless wind. Thor's foot kicked Loki in his already injured shoulder, earning another ear splitting crack from the bones and yelp from his younger brother; he was rolled onto his back. The Thunderer was much to focus on tackling Heimdallr to concern himself with Loki. The trickster gasped as the sword was jerked ruthlessly from his shoulder. Loki turned his head and watched with relief as Thor and Heimdallr rolled together as one chaotic, furious mess of gold and blood. Against the bleak landscape of Jötunheimr, they stood out as things to weird to live.

As another gurgle of blood came up, he was grateful he had his head turned so he didn't choke on his own blood; that would be too embarrassing and pathetic to drown in one's own blood. With the last of his strength, he forced the world to again fade and then condense into the safety in the hall of his Nazi palace. The staff remained in his hand, but his fingers were unfurled and twitching from the agony. "Sigyn," he croaked out weakly; quickly followed by more bubbling of blood. "Si—" But his words were cut short again by the rush of blood and lack of breath. "S-s-s—"

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><p><strong>AN:** Of course, Loki completely ignores Sigyn's advice and goes to take on Thor... Very fun to write and very interesting. In the movie extras, Kenneth says Thor and Loki have had this wonderful relationship as brothers. So I imagined they were not always rivals like a lot of people write about. I can see a lot of bromance between them, and the occasional conflicts. In the deleted scenes, the two jest with each other about their relationship, but it also showed serious parts of their relationship. Thor did value what Loki thought. If you haven't seen the scene, go look it up. It's the one before Thor's coronation. Also in the movie, we see Loki is the one who originally tried to calm Thor after the Frost Giants invaded Odin's treasure room. So that's where the whole inspiration of Loki being Thor's calmer side came into play. So, when watching the film again, I saw the whole role reversal when Thor put the hammer on Loki's chest.

And there is not too much dialogue in this chapter. The brother's don't have much to say to each other. They just want to bash the shit out of the other. Can't say I blame either of them. But as for the fight, Loki is pretty damn battered. In desperation, he first goes home, but realizes that because Heimdall and Thor were touching him, they came as well. So he decided to take them to Jotunheim. Then when they were off of him, Loki transported back home. That whole transporting deal would have happened in like all of 15 seconds.

Then for fun, I have on my profile a list of actors and actresses for the newer characters. I'm open for new ideas of who should portray them! This is important b/c I plan on doing some avid sketching of different scenes from TGA. Expect to see those sketches start to pop up on tumblr.

Last but not least, I will be correcting grammer and things tomorrow. Too brain dead to care right now.

**Okay, I lied. Amora1993, thank you for the reviews! I went to try to PM you back to thank you personally, but you have that disabled. But I wanted to let you know I appreciated it! Like all the reviews and favs and alerts, I love them. SO BIG THANK YOU TO ALL OF YA AS WELL!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Tearing God Asunder**

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><p><strong>AN: **Such a fun chapter to write. :)

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><p>Just when Thor thought he had Heimdallr pinned to the ground, the guardsman would strike back and place Thor onto the ground. The Thunderer would answer with blunt kicks and brute strength that kept Heimdallr from dealing a final—<em>smack!<em> Heimdallr struck a painful blow to Thor's lower jaw, and he stumbled back over the slick ice and rocks. The blood trickled from both his lower and upper lip and down his chin. He hunched over slightly as he tried to catch his breath in the bitter cold; Heimdallr mirrored his actions but did so with much more dignity. The guard's golden eyes slid to his sword that glinted five yards away, and then his eyes rested on Thor.

A race, eh?

At the first flinch of Heimdallr lunging for his sword, Thor yelled out a brutal command. "HAMMER!" He held out his hand to grip the handle but all he received as a handful off snowflakes and dry, bitter air. For the second time, all the blood ran from his face, and his eyes looked as if they were going to bust out of his head.

His heart skipped a literal beat at the female Jötunn easily taking and lifting Mjölnir in her large, calloused hand. She stood in front of the line of a hunting party; each one carried a bow and various knives. The jade armor frozen onto her skin had traces of dark, red blood, but her armor was sparse, only covering her from the waist to just below the knees and one single plating on her left forearm. Jörð had no form of plating over her chest, and to his shock, the other female Jötunn went around topless and hairless like their male counterparts, but she did have a striking, delicate gold necklace frozen to the base of her neck. The Jötunn stepped forward from the pack. The woman was thickly built to survive, and given her modest size of fifteen feet (compared to her companions), the Thunderer found himself silent and still. Her small, beady red eyes slid over to Heimdallr, very much not impressed by his noble efforts.

"Kill the Àss," Jörð mumbled through a deep, unmoving voice.

From the pack, a steel bow was raised, and the tip of the arrow caught the light. All it appeared to be was little more than a glimmer of light. The shot barely made a noise as it pierced through Heimdallr's pupil and to the rest of his head. The only obstacle that Thor guessed stopped the arrow was when it met the inside of the guard's helm on the other side of his head. The guard stood for a moment, blank faced. With a soft breath from the wind, he toppled to the ground, still holding his sword like a true warrior.

"Very well done, Váli," she complimented. Their eyes, all fourteen pairs of them, turned to Thor. Without his hammer, he backed away out of the instinct to stay alive.

"Come now, _brother_," spoke Víðarr. He moved forward to take his spot beside Jörð. He was taller than she by several feet and many times more brawny. Lean, starving, and desperate looking like the rest of the party with his beaten and broken jade armor, all his muscles appeared to pop out but not in a pleasing way. Unlike Jörð, his face was soft and oblong, compared to her rectangular face. His eyes were bigger and boiling with life and warmth.

Another, a very much younger and male version of Jörð came to her other side. Thor easily assumed he was her son, and about the same age as Víðarr; which, they both looked several years younger than himself. "We do not harm our own kin," Meili assured. He held out his hand, palm up, towards Thor like he was trying to win the affection of a dog. He made a small but genuine smile to him. "You are among friends and kin."

"Thou are _not_ my kin," Thor answered clearly.

"Here, here," spoke another. Another female giant approached who was more slender than her female companion but far more worse for wear. The scars dominated her skin. From each ear hung heavy tusks on gold hoops. Her left eye appeared to be hiding behind a heavy fog and did not move in time with her good right eye. It took him a good moment to see from her lop-sided expression that the whole of her left face was paralyzed. "Let the son of Woden remain here if he pleases. If to die is his wish, then so be it."

"Come now, Rindr," Gríðr criticized. "Do not let your personal experiences with Woden hinder your logic." Of the three Jötunn women, she was by far the oldest and smallest of the bunch, seeming to be have been around Laufey's age, but also the least scarred. She carried herself with air of wisdom, concern, and objectiveness. She dared to cross the line Jörð, Víðarr, and Meili had created. "He is a child of Ymir, just as we all are. Families should not be snapping at the other's throats. We are better than animals." She came towards Thor without any hesitation. His eyes flicked again to his hammer before resting one more on Gríðr. "Do you believe a Jötunn should not be able to hoist Mjölnir, son of Woden?" she inquired.

"No," Thor replied hastily and bluntly. He glowered at her. The God might have saved their race from death, but by no means did he trust a giant. Their race had done nothing to be so deserving or worthy of any power. They had only proven countless times to abusive it over and over again. "The Jötunn are _not_ worthy to possess that power."

"And why not, son of Woden?" Her voice was calm and collected; she appeared to have ignored the blatant hate in his voice for the Jötunn. "What could have tender Jörð done to be unworthy of Mjölnir?"

"I—" Thor paused to looked at Jörð. She simply looked back at him, waiting to hear his answer. There was no hint of expression on her face, and he found himself very unnerved by that because it was the same, steel look Loki would make. It flustered him more than Thor would have liked. He swallowed. "She is a _Jötunn_."

"He is like Woden," Rindr growled. "Thinks us _all_ savages." She spun on her heels and began to walk away. "Come now, I tire of this. Leave him for Kings Thrym and Utgard-Loki."

"Loki?" Thor croaked. "_My brother_?"

"No," Meili answered coldly. "Utgard-Loki is a Jötunn sorcerer who allies himself with Thrym. He cannot be your brother as he is an Àss. And we should leave soon, before Geirröd and Magni come for _our_ brother," he spoke matter-of-factly as he looked to the mountains on the horizon. From behind him peaked out two twin, heart-shaped heads, Fafnir and Fasolt. They were adolescents still nearing the age of a man and just beginning to fill out their bodies. The duo agreed with their mentor.

Jörð looked to Meili. "I have raised Gjálp and Greip as my own. They are my kin; thus, Geirröd too is _my_ kin," the giantess argued. "He shall do no harm to the son of Woden as he is _my_ kin, and therefore, the son of Woden is _his_ kin too." She took a deep breath before facing Thor. "I cannot say the same for other Jötunn like Magni, and so Meili is right that we ought to move out of sight so as to be out of mind. You best come along, son of Woden."

"I shall not," he decreed stubbornly.

"Do you with all of your heart hate us because of our blood?" Víðarr asked hesitantly. He leaned towards Thor, not too eager to hear what he had so say.

"I have no reason to trust any Jötunn," Thor argued.

"So if we could give you a good reason to trust us, would you?" Víðarr asked further.

"What reason could you give?" he questioned.

Fafnir and Fasolt looked curiously to each other then around at their surrounding mentors, but not a single Jötunn answered the question. Jörð muttered something beneath her breath and in a dialect Thor could not understand. Meili placed a hand on either shoulder of the twins as he guided them away. Víðarr followed behind Jörð and Gríðr to pull up the rear; all of the party were led by Rindr. But Víðarr stopped and the group carried onwards to the vast, open iceland. He frowned sorrowfully at Thor. The lone giant glanced to the group once more before sighing. He deviated from the group to walk to Thor. "If you will not come with us, then by duty, I must stat with you, son of Woden," he spoke. Víðarr slumped against the rock wall; he was still very much taller than Thor, even with sitting. "I am Víðarr, son of Gríðr." He pointed towards his mother with a smile. "You ought to have some nice scars from that scuffle."

"Do not mock me," Thor threatened.

"I am not," he said cheerfully. "We Jötunn—at least those raised on Jötunheimr—value scars. They tell others what we are willing to fight and die for in this life." He leaned towards Thor to show him a deep wound sliced into his bicep. The God raised a suspicious eyebrow but said nothing and listened. "This one, I received from an Àss when I rushed out to defend my home. Nasty wound; hurt worse than being burned by fire." He chuckled before looking to the ruins on the mountain side. "We did well that day. Even if we lost—"

"But you did lose," Thor stated.

"Nah," Víðarr dismissed. "Just a nasty beating." He mocked punched the air several times like he was a boxing match. _Pow! Pow!_ "Give us a bit of time, and we shall spring back to life!" He smiled optimistically at Thor, who was not any friendlier looking. "I am not going to eat you, son of Woden." He shook his head from side to side. "Things that can think do not taste very good."

"You know?" he asked frankly.

"Yeah," he mumbled. "I bit the hand of an Àss off when they invaded our home." He shivered. "_Disgusting._"

Thor chuckled. "Should be," he snickered.

"Come now, Thor," the giant egged. He lightly hit Thor on the arm in fun, clean jest. "Tell me you have not tasted the blood of thy enemy?"

He was a bit giddy before answering, "Maybe once or twice." Víðarr chuckled with him. Thor let out a hot breath and sat down next to the giant. He set his eyes on the small and growing smaller sites of the hunting party. He could barely see the dull glare from his hammer as it rested over Jörð's shoulder. His heart felt like a stone in his chest, pressed itself uncomfortably against his ribs, and rested on his lungs. "They will leave you?" he asked seriously.

The giant sighed. "I left them," Víðarr corrected. "I am needed elsewhere." He glanced quickly to Thor before watching with sorrow and longing as his family marched away without him. His mouth curled into a bittersweet smile. "No matter where I go, they shall always be my family. No man or creature or even a God can change that fact. They know this; otherwise, they would not have let me go." He took in a deep breath. "Your brother came through to here when the bridge collapsed. There is no way he could have survived this place without aid. The Àss stand out here."

"My brother, he is a Jötunn," Thor said straightforwardly. "My father used magic on him to ensure he looked like an Æsir, but when he came in contact with the Casket of Ancient Winters, he became blue like a blueberry. I wonder if he used it as a disguise. If he did..." His voice grew weak. Thor hunched over his legs and hung his arms between his knees. He closed his eyes to shut out the truth he did not want to face, but he felt the truth in the form of another sword to his heart. By now, he felt as if his heart was a pin cushion. "He would be Utgard-Loki, and one of the kings who has declared war on Asgard."

A gentle, large hand rested on his back. "I believe you are right, son of Woden," the giant agreed.

"And Loki knows how to get from here to Asgard. I-I-I left Asgard," he mumbled. Thor ran his hand through his hair and pulled at it anxiously. "And now Asgard and Midgard are at the mercy of my brother. And I am here without Mjölnir, completely and utterly useless!" He hit his hand against the rocky wall.

"In the eyes of our people, Thrym is the dominate of the two kings," he explained. "And Utgard-Loki does not show himself much. I would suspect he is on Midgard most of the time. He is mostly using Thrym as a pawn then. He manipulated Thrym to declare war on Asgard so that you might be distracted from Midgard." But the war didn't work to keep him on Asgard, and Thor realized that Loki only came to engage him in battle because he a posed a direct threat to his brother if he went to Midgard. The anger was swirling inside of him. His own brother was treating Asgard like some tool! Their friends, all of them, he so carelessly abandoned! H-h-how could Loki be so detached and cold to forget about all that they shared? For even he, as much as he loathed Asgard, could not simply cast aside such strong emotions and memories. "His true intentions then lie on Midgard. That is where you must go if you are to save Asgard," Víðarr added.

He shook his head. "No, I will save Midgard. Defending Asgard will only be a byproduct of my actions," Thor corrected. He quickly stood. "I need to retrieve Mjölnir first."

"That will not be easy," he companion argued. "Jörð will not willingly give Mjölnir to you without something in return."

"What would she want?" he inquired.

"The Casket of Ancient Winters," Víðarr clarified.

"The weapon was lost to us at the same time the observatory collapsed," Thor stated.

Víðarr grinned. "I know where the observatory is." He groaned as he stood to join the God. "Getting there will not be easy or safe."

He looked up to the giant. "I would not have wanted it to be that way," he spoke haughtily.

"We are indeed brothers then," he chirped happily.

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><p><strong>AN: **I did not intend for this to actually be in the story. Safe (and glad) to say, the characters are now writing the plot, not me. That includes our first major character death with Heimdall. And the giants demanded to be in the story. And each and every one of them is an actual giant from Norse mythology. I am really glad they are now because we see Loki has been using them again to wage war against Asgard because he was hoping to distract Thor. I like how that ties together because that is just like Loki. And of course, I liked how we can bring in elements from the last movie, such as the casket, into this little verse. I am so very eager to see Víðarr and Thor head off together on mystical and bloody adventures. I have a feeling its gonna be like two Thors, our Thor and Víðarr as older Thor. I am very scared for Jotunheim now. I can't imagine what kind of destruction they will bring!

*** Àss is another name for an Aesir, and Woden is another name for Odin. I am going to assume that the Jotun have their own dialect that is different than the Aesir. Just like how the Vanir have their own accent.


	14. Chapter 14

**Tearing God Asunder**

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><p><strong>AN:** Should have mentioned that I did sketch up Beloved Daughter's comment about Sigyn riding a zebra. 'Cept I was too lazy to add the stripes. xD We can all imagine they are there.

Anyway, enjoy!

h t t p : / / 2 4 . m e d i a . t u m b l r . c o m / t u m b l r _ l t 2 e 6 p T A Q 2 1 r 2 y p 0 t o 1 _ 5 0 0 . p n g

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><p>He woke briefly to the sound of Freda shrieking his name out, but the God fell just as quickly as he woke back into the darkness. The last thing he heard was the finely aged, auburn woman calling out to Sigyn.<p>

Loki woke next in his spacious and gold and steel room, a brief bit longer than the previous time, to the tugging and jostling as the mortals fought to remove his protective metal and leather. He knew damn well by how they fumbled badly at his buckles that he should have been at the mercy of their rough hands, yelping from the pain, but he just felt a moderate amount of discomfort; much less than what there should have been. The God's eyes roamed up the bloody hand to the tender arm, over the waves of red hair, and to the familiar face. Sigyn was straining underneath the stress. Her jaw was tightly clenched, and she was still from the pain. He was much too weak to smile with his lips, but there was a contentment resting in his blue eyes. He, at the moment, was entirely grateful to have her, his wife, to share the burden of the pain.

"Sigyn!" Kevin cried out as he raced into the room. With her attention divided too much, between Loki, the mortals, and now a young child, her mind went blank. Loki blacked out from the pain as it drowned his body.

The third time he woke, Loki caught only the sound of Sigyn's voice ranting, "... I should let him die because then there shall be no more threat to the family of Njörðr." His stomach sank. She knew then what he was and the part he was playing. Loki surprised himself by how not surprised he was by Sigyn's comment. He was indifferent to it really. Why should he care about them when the only people who cared about him, only cared about him because they wanted him dead? After all, he was only another enemy to be defeated. Heimdallr had delivered that message from his father clearly.

He was just another enemy to be toppled.

The fourth time he woke, the God recognized he was still on his bed, belly down, and buried underneath the silk sheets. Between the sheets and his bare shoulder blade, which ached, he felt the nimble fingers gently trying to message the skin. He turned his head and effectively managed to block out his vision with his unruly hair. He instinctively moved his right arm and hand to his face—"_Aaaah!_" Loki yelped at the sudden onslaught of pain arching through his nerves like lightening. He couldn't hold back the tears that came immediately. A smaller moan came from Sigyn at the moment he felt his pain cut in half. She absently brushed his hair out of his vision as she brought her own hand to the pain in her shoulder. He watched as her lips twitched and fluttered between making a growl or simply frowning at the burden she chose.

He gave her, and himself, a moment for the pain to pass before he realized that Sigyn obviously decided not to kill him. When she looked down at him, Loki wasn't sure if that was regret in her eyes from not killing him or disappointment that he broke one of Asgard's long traditions; that being, it is better to die with your honor in battle than to be a coward and live to fight another day. If he wasn't Asgardian, then why should he follow any of them? He didn't belong there, anyway. So it would make no sense for him to continue to follow any of what he had learned. All they ever told him was lies. And all they ever did was use him. They never fucking cared. His eyes narrowed. And for that matter, little Asgardian Sigyn could go fuck herself. If he cared, which the God didn't, he might have inquired as to why Sigyn was still here.

"I am glad to see you are not leaving me this time," she said with the most subtle smile in the crease between her upper and lower lip. Sigyn seemed almost relieved. "You ought not move your arm." He grumbled because that was something very obvious _now_. "I shan't ask what happened because I already know in my heart what has occurred." The Goddess sighed tiredly. She looked tired with dark circles under her eyes from restless nights. Her words were starting to slur with the faintest hints of her Vanir accent. "I did what I could with magic and healing stones, but I am no healer. The skin is healed, but underneath the flesh is still damaged. I doubt your shoulder will ever be normal again without the aid of a true Asgardian healer."

"I will _not_ go to Asgard," he stated matter-of-fact. "They had no need of me. I have no need of them." Loki paused a second, considering whether to speak his next words or not, but in the end, what did it matter? "I have no need of you either, _Asgardian_."

"If I were not here, you would be dead," Sigyn combated. "You _needed_ me."

"I need no one!" he hissed. Using his left forearm, the trickster sought to push himself up. His plan was short lived as Sigyn dropped his share of the burden she had been carrying back onto his shoulders. It felt like someone dropped an elephant on him. Loki buckled underneath the rush of pain and landed on his injured shoulder. He screamed out the initial pain. His legs twisted and he whimpered to compensate for the rest. There was a deep blaze running along the inside of his right shoulder, like there was a fire eating him from the inside out.

Sigyn stood there for a moment as she distance herself mentally from the scene. She tried to look at him with as little emotion as possible on her face, but she failed miserably. The Goddess wasn't capable of that kind of extreme that Loki was. Her face bubbled from the anger at herself from making him suffer and for his pure ignorance. She really hated seeing him squirm and be so vulnerable. Gods were not suppose to be vulnerable, especially the trickster. That was like Thor being left on Jötunheimr without his hammer—it just simply didn't happen. "If I hated you, I would have killed you two weeks past, Loki," she spoke. "I would have done so to save Njörðr and his family, and no other family, mind you, Loki." She grabbed his jaw and forced his eyes towards her. If what she said truly mattered to him, then he could focus on her words instead of the pain. "And you will stop this war between the Jötunn and Æsir simply because Njörðr and his family reside within the boundaries of Asgard."

"I shall do no such act!" he hissed.

"Then I shall drag you to some dank cave and hang a snake above your head as they say in the _Eddas_," Sigyn threatened. "I shall do so, but I would prefer not since we are stronger together than apart." Her voice was shacking because of how small Loki was. Without any of his clothes to fill out what he lacked, the trickster appeared rather diminutive. He was lean but his muscles were subtle underneath his unburnt skin. Unlike what most thought, his skin was not perfectly smooth but felt like a thin, flexible piece of finely crafted leather, tough and beautiful to touch. Sigyn couldn't stand to be so cold anymore. She ran her fingers over his skin as she took on her share of their burden. The God squirmed no more and breathed in relief. "I could care less about Asgard like you, Loki, but Njörðr and his family have been good to me. I need to be good back to them."

He attempted to jerk his head out of her grasp, but she held firm and persisted. "They would have sold you off if I had not been there in Asgard," Loki criticized.

"Only because they would have been looking out for my best interests," Sigyn argued. "They would have done so because they loved me and consider me their kin."

"Sounds an awful lot like Father," he spat.

She jerked her hand away from his disgusting face and stood stiffly. "Njörðr is _not_ a thing like Allfather," she defended. "While I dislike Allfather—and I will admit openly that I dislike Odin and his ways—he was a _good_ father to _you_. He lied yes, but so you would not feel different. He took you from the temples on Jötunheimr with intentions of bringing about a lasting peace to prevent Ragnarök, but he saved your life. Had he not taken you, you would have died, Loki. He gave you life, the greatest gift of all. He raised you and Thor fairly. While only one could ascend to the throne as king, did he not make clear that you would both be inheriting the kingdom to rule _together_? Whatever misconceptions you had that in the eye of Odin you were anything less than Thor was in your own mind and the minds of Asgardians. You treat yourself as a victim when it is your who twist his words. That is _pathetic_."

"I am _not_ pathetic, Sigyn," Loki retorted. "And at the very least, I am not so cowardly as to run away from Asgard because of their criticisms."

"I _never_ ran away!" she shouted. "I came after you because you threaten Njörðr and his family. You will convince Thrym to undo this; either by force or cooperation."

"You will suffer for your decision to choose Asgard over me," Loki promised coolly.

"I _never_ chose Asgard," Sigyn corrected. "I chose _you_, Loki."

"What?" The word slipped his mouth, knowing his mind was going blank at what she said. He stared absently at her, blinking to make sure this wasn't a dream. The bitter pain running through him was enough proof to tell him this was reality. Loki instinctively held his mouth open so he could craft some beautiful words on his silver tongue but nothing came. H-h-he didn't know how to even begin to think about her words. He could feel it in her stare that whatever the hell the Goddess had said, she meant it. Sigyn didn't often stare so passionately at him. Loki couldn't even recall a time she stared at him _with so much_ zeal.

"I _chose_ you, Loki," she repeated for his sake; her voice was softer. Sigyn sat slowly back onto the bed, sinking into the soft, silky sheets. She folded her legs elegantly beneath her and kept herself poised like she was in the middle of council with Allfather. That annoyed Loki that she spoke one way but acted another. "First and foremost, I want Asgard untouched because of Njörðr and his family. Secondly, I want Asgard alive so Heimdallr can relay to the people that I will honor my martial vows to be a dutiful and loyal partner to you, Loki. I want to hear what criticisms they will say when I honor those vows by going against Asgard. I want them to hear how stupid their words sound through the beaks of Huginn and Muninn." She took a pause to lick her lips, a habit she hadn't broken. Sigyn looked away to someone on the window sill, to someone who wasn't there. "Thirdly, you are my husband, and therefore my kin. Without explanation needed, you are the last of my true kin by definition of marriage. And I-I-I will not abandon those values instilled into my soul by my father." The Goddess returned her warm gray eyes to him. There was a proud smile gracing her lips. "I shall not conform to Asgard. I ought not call a place home where I am required to wear shoes."

Loki chuckled and smiled. Just like Sigyn to make an ending comment to lighten the mood; not that he didn't like it because he very much did. His heart felt a bit lighter than it had in quite some time. Judging from the light dancing off of Sigyn's irises, she too felt that little bit of warmth of having found their own little niche in the universe. "You never need to touch another shoe so long as you are on Midgard, serving beside me—" His lips quickly turned into a devious, joking smirk. "My queen." Sigyn bit her lip as she giggled like a school girl at the old inside joke from their childhood. "And we shall be the king and queen as I promised when we were young and reckless."

"We still are young and reckless," she insisted. "Perhaps more so since we answer to no one but each other."

"I rather enjoy the concept of that idea," he purred. She nodded in agreement. Loki closed his eyes where he noticed the enticing smell of a roast lofting in the air. "I must say, Freda cooks better than any from the hall of Father."

"Imagine how it shall taste when I bring her a freshly hunted animal," Sigyn said.

"That will be delicious," the God agreed. "As will the roast Freda is cooking. She is indeed a very valuable mortal. Where by chance did you come across such a necessity?" Though he found the topic to be meaningless in the long run, talking about something meaningless felt good. There was no weight to any words he said, giving him a taste of freedom he hadn't enjoyed for some time.

"One must not give away all their secrets," she chirped. He felt the bed shift as she stood up. "I shall have Freda bring you some when the roast is ready, my king." She caught him grinning as she walked quietly along the steel floor. The Goddess felt a bit smug she had brought such a light-hearted grin to now usually sullen, maniacal lips. She couldn't keep it to herself, and as such, she began to hum. Sigyn hummed louder when she could hear the faint, approving chuckle coming from Loki.

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><p><strong>AN:** So Sigyn knows about Loki plotting the war of between Jotunheim and Asgard. She obviously is not very happy with Loki about it. She is still very much loyal to them. So I guess we can say she's still been the Goddess of Fidelity, just not to Loki. Maybe now she can. We'll see just how long this will last considering these two are still volatile around each other. But that is to be expected from their past. I like this chapter only because it shows Loki growing more careless and unfeeling about others. From a recent interview, it was Tom Hiddleston who said this is the edge that makes Loki dangerous. So trying to figure out to give him that edge without losing Sigyn in the process was a bit of challenge. It was also a challenge to try to find what may have driven Sigyn to be more like her Norse counterpart and give up Asgard, for the most part. She is just out now to spite Asgard for telling her for years she has been a horrible wife, and now she has her chance to be a good wife, but at the cost of becoming an enemy of Asgard.

And a little bit more of Sigyn's history has been revealed. For the first time she uses the word father to describe her actual father. But she says Loki is the last of her family only by marriage. Which isn't too surprising considering what Frigga revealed to Thor. There is that subtle tie in with the giants from the previous chapter that family is very much important to them. That reminds me, one of the gifts of being magically married is that Loki and Sigyn can share each other burdens. Like we see in the chapter, Sigyn cannot take away the pain but can bear some of it so Loki feels relief. This is a tribute to Norse!Sigyn who held the bowl so Loki wouldn't suffer.

On that note, I am off! Have a wonderful Monday morning!


	15. Chapter 15

**Tearing God Asunder**

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><p><strong>AN: **I just have to say, I am always blown away by the support this story gets through reviews, favs, and alerts! Thank you for the support!

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><p>He had been bed bound for another week. Half of it was his choice because of the horror stories he heard from Kevin as he chattered to his father about Fenris, the pack of hounds and mutts, and the new herd of zebra. Loki had been keeping track in his head how many times he heard Sybil pleading to get a dog off her—the count was at twenty-two for the moment. The other half to the reason he remained beneath the sheets and nibbling on this delicious baked good called chocolate cake, was because of his shoulder. Sigyn had not been over exaggerating when she claimed his shoulder would need an expert healer.<p>

The God stood with his naked, wet backside to the foggy mirror. The hot bath he had taken was filled the air with its heavy, warm air. The metal did nothing to help relieve the heat. He had thought absently how confined these quarters were. They, the mortal servants and the Gods, were undetected to SHIELD, at the moment. He knew at some point he would abandon this place for a different home either because of SHIELD or to simply upgrade to something better after what was to come, but for the moment this place was his home. The condition of this dank place was unacceptable and—Loki's thoughts were cut short when his eyes came to rest on his shoulder.

By appearances, his skin appeared as if he had never been struck down brutally by Thor and Heimdallr. He let his left hand trace with feather light touches over the hot skin; he could feel the inflamed muscles and irritation shifting beneath his skin. Even this gentle touch was flirting with pain. The cool air brushed over his bare chest. Loki looked in the mirror to see Sigyn's reflection as she entered. He took only a moment to notice she wore the All Saints Bleach Python Dress she had ordered a few days ago. Her dress reminded Loki that he wore nothing. He quickly turned around and grabbed his gray robe. He slipped it over his left arm, but didn't dare try to pull the sleeve up and over his right arm. The pain simply wasn't worth it. "We may be on Midgard but barging into a room with a naked God is still considered rude, Sigyn," Loki chided as he tied the belt into a loose knot.

"I was under the impression you regularly flaunted your body in front of women," Sigyn said, referring to _them_. There was a faint hint of red color to his cheeks at how she brought up his past lovers; which was strange since he had never been ashamed of his conquests. Her lips pursed before she spoke, "Or are you still that shy boy from our wedding night?" She giggled as he turned red like a mad Thor. "I still find that night hilarious." She sighed at the memory, and then Sigyn looked over at him, analyzing all the little changes since their youth. "Hard believe you were so innocent."

"How so?" he argued; the annoyed tone in his voice could not be ignored. "I bedded you that night and took away your innocence."

Sigyn mockingly laughed at his statement. She walked to him, folding her arms across her chest. She was more brass in front of him now since the incident; which he both enjoyed and hated. There were times when she simply did not know when to shut up, but somehow she always came off as being so collected and poised. "If I recall, you had never kissed a woman, other than your mother, before me," she said smugly like it were some prize. The Goddess bite her lip as she thought with more effort about that night. "How surprised I was to find Prince Loki did not know how to kiss properly, let alone bed a woman."

"Well, how then," he spoke accusingly, "did you know how to kiss?" Loki looked down at her coldly like she were another whore. "Because if I recall, you were the one who kept telling me that I was kissing all wrong. How many men did you kiss to become such an expert by our wedding night? For that matter, how were you such an expert in bed?"

She frowned at the sublt insult he was implying. He might as well have just come out with it and said she was whore. The Goddess huffed before letting the insult slide ... for now. "So you have admitted you were no expert," Sigyn stated haughtily.

"No—"

She waved a hand at him as she turned around to head back out the door. "The night before we were to wed, Freyja stole me from my chambers so I could be properly prepared for a prince," she explained through a grin. She used her finger to usher him to follow her. "I shall tell you the story so you may laugh tonight instead of moan and groan as I work on kneading your shoulder."

The dread came to his face as it did every night when Sigyn came to massage the muscles in his shoulder. She did so because tense muscles only made the road to recovery worse, but loosening the muscles was painful in and of itself. Even with Sigyn bearing as much pain as she could managed without losing focus, Loki was grunting and fidgeting on the bed sheets. "Not tonight," he dismissed. "I do not wish to be a masochist." He followed her out into his room. The God frowned at the bleak walls and cloudy night skies through the windows. The only color in the room came from Sigyn's flowers and his bed. His own bed was now depressing. After spending a week there, he had successfully mastered all the Angry Bird games, became bored with Wurdle, and found whatever mental stimulation he had downloaded on his iPad to no longer be, well, stimulating. Mortal literature bored him to tears. And television—_ha!_ Don't even get him started. "This place lacks interests."

"You say that only because you have been kept in this room," Sigyn commented.

"I have not exactly had the privilege to leave," he complained. Loki glowered at her with deep hate because even now, she was still bearing enough of the burden to allow him to move about as much as he did. She just grinned from ear-to-ear at the power she held. He had forgotten over the years but been reminded over the course of several days of how Sigyn basked in the power like Frigga did, like a true queen. She would be a good queen; he could feel it in his heart. Loki also felt a bit smug at the fact he had been smart enough as a young man to pick out those who would go far in life and to align himself with them. But that same intelligence was driving him crazy because there was _nothing_ here to keep him entertained. "This place is insufferable."

"Then you should not have engaged Thor," she reminded.

"He needed to be be engaged," Loki argued. "He is no longer a threat to my plans."

"No, he may not, but Odin shall come for you for harming Thor," the Goddess answered. "He shall bring the wrath of Asgard with him."

"No, he shall not," he retorted. "Thor _too_ is an enemy of Asgard."

This peaked her curiosity. Sigyn rested the edge of his bed and crossed her legs, preparing for a long winded explanation. "How so?"

"He objected to the orders of Heimdallr," Loki said nonchalantly, as if it were old news. "By doing so, he went against Father. Thus, he too became an enemy of Asgard." There was the slightest smirk across his lips that his damn brother might suffer as he did now. "Asgard has no mighty heroes to defend her borders. When Father passes, she shall be helpless."

"If anything befalls Asgard and harms—"

"Oh shush," he snapped. "Njörðr and his family shall remained unharmed." He scrutinized her with his eyes. "I still do not quite understand why you cling to them like you are a babe, Sigyn. I find such emotions quite reckless, dangerous, and contrary to what lies in the future for us." Loki placed his good hand on the window as he looked to the heavens and picked out each of the other eight realms. Soon they would be looking to the heavens towards Midgard as that shinning city on a hill, just as they did with Asgard. "You are much too good to be protective of a Hostage-King."

"I cannot easily give those up who have been apart of my life for many years and done good for me," Sigyn defended.

"Why though?" the God questioned. He turned quickly to Sigyn. "Do you believe Njörðr and his family will show the same mercy towards you as you do him? He shall follow Father in the hunt for us, and given the chance, stake a knife into your heart."

"If he did, he would only do so because of following orders underneath Odin," she criticized.

"Then Njörðr is a fool!" Loki insulted.

Sigyn stood abruptly at his harsh and uncalled for words. "Njörðr is no fool!"

"Then he is a coward!" he continued.

"Is it cowardly to protect your family?" she combated.

"I would not bow if Odin threatened you, Sigyn," the trickster remarked coldly. She stared at him blankly, just—_ugg_! The goddess walked away, and earned herself a snarl from Loki. "And where are you going?" he shouted. "To cower like your father?"

She stopped underneath the door frame to glower at him over her shoulder. "My father is _dead_, Loki," she spat in an evil tone he had never heard before from her nor cared too again. "No less because of Odin and his unsatisfied hunger for power. Unlike you, the foolish boy who thinks himself a king, I know better than to trifle with Odin. I know the cost of such actions. I live through those consequences every day." She turned herself to him, not trusting to keep her back to him. She exhaled a deep breath.

"Oh, well, at least he died an honorable death," he said back sarcastically.

"_Do not_ insult _my_ father!" she growled.

"I shall insult anyone I please whenever I please," Loki purred.

"But he is not the point!" Sigyn shouted.

"Then what is the point, Sigyn?" the God inquired callously.

"The point is you are the person who loves to start a fire and burn bridges, and then you wonder why you are not accepted. You cause your own isolation," she hissed. "Now I see this more clearly than ever. I pity you, Loki, for you do not realize how many bridges you have burned. You have just burned this bridge." She pointed to herself before she briskly turned around and headed out of the room. Behind her, she could hear Loki following her at an alarmingly quick and mad pace, and Sigyn only walked faster in hopes of escaping the wild beast she had unleashed.

"Do not pity me, Sigyn!" Loki yelled. The air crackled around him as his furious, angry, and boiling emotions got the better of him. "I need the pity of no one!"

"Then you shall have none!" she screamed back to him; her voice echoed harshly and painfully off the closed walls. Sigyn nearly fell to the ground as Loki appeared before her. "Out of my way, Loki," she commanded. "Make use of your magic and leave!"

"These are _my_ halls," he snapped. The walls quivered at his voice.

"But you tire of them! You said yourself!"

"I shan't be forced out of my home!"

Sigyn straightened herself. "Than I shall leave!" She shoved him roughly in his injured shoulder. Loki stumbled back with a startled and painful yelp, but his eyes remained on Sigyn. Again he evaporated and then condensed in front of her, but this time, she could not ignore the veins beginning to pop along his head and neck from rage. She hesitated, giving Loki the precious moment he needed to grab and twist her wrist. The Goddess cried out as she slumped down to the ground to keep her wrist from snapping from his wicked grip. "You are unbearable, son of Odin!" she screamed.

"I am _no_ son of Odin!" Loki hissed. His breath was hot like fire on her skin.

"Then act like one!" Sigyn criticized. "Because you acting exactly like a son of Odin as of now!"

He released her wrist but only to curled his fingers possessively and dangerously around her tender throat. He could feel her pulse beating beneath her thin skin. The God ran his thumb over the pulse with a sick pleasure as he tightened his grip on her throat.. "Do not mock—_AAG_!" He was cut off as the pain came rushing over him and ruined all of his concentration.

Sigyn ruthlessly pushed him away to the floor as she stood. She ran her hand over to her neck to reassure herself his hand was truly gone. "Do not trifle with the Lady of Victory, Loki _Odinson_," she snarled. His surname sounded of pure evil coming from the tip of her tongue. "You are bound to lose _every_ time." She didn't even bother to give one last glance to Loki cradelling his arm to relieve additional pressure from his shoulder.

He swallowed down a hard spoonful of pain to watch Sigyn sway away from him like some little princess. His vision blurred from the tears, especially as he narrowed his eyes on her. "So now you are simply going to leave?" Loki asked through his clenched teeth. "Run back to Asgard?" She just continued on her merry way. "What of being that dutiful wife you spoke of earlier?"

"I will be your dutiful wife in public any day of the week and any given time, but in private, I have no need be around a son of Odin," she stated matter-of-fact and without emotion. She huffed. "You are the most like Odin, Loki." Sigyn stopped and looked over her shoulder at him, but there was not pity in her eyes. But Loki did see the hate gathering in her eyes like a thousand armies, and their weapons were aimed towards him. "You should know, Odin killed my father," she added hastily, as if the words could not come fast enough. "And if need be, Loki, I shall kill you before you have a chance to unleash the tyranny Odin has upon these realms."

"You are the _greatest_ hypocrite, Sigyn," Loki grumbled as he struggled to stand. "You sound no better than Father, using me as means to insult Asgard. Then on top of that, having the gall to insinuate that you are against tyranny; yet, would you consider what I am about to do to the humans, a "free" realm, tyranny? Are you then not putting a price on life? How does that fit into Vanir culture? Is that not against everything that is Vanir?"

"Well, I am _not_ damn Vanir!" Sigyn screamed. "So do not place that upon me!"

"Well, what are you then, Sigyn?" Loki shouted. He twisted her around with his left hand and forced her to face him.

"What _am_ I?" she mocked through a nervous laugh. "I can tell you what I am _not_, and that is _your_ wife!"

"You are my wife!" he breathed. "And you will be bound to me forever!"

"Only as long as either of us lives," she threatened.

"You would not dare!"

"You are tempting me!" the Goddess answered frankly. "Now let me leave before I decide to act on that temptation." She didn't wait for answer. Sigyn jerked herself away from him and rounded the corner to be out of his view. "And do not even think about seeing me in private until you swallow your pride and are prepared to kiss my feet!" she yelled down the corridor.

"And you best not dare show yourself before I decide to divorce you simply so I may turn you into a worm to squash beneath my feet!" he bellowed.

"At the very least I would no longer have to be around thee!" she roared.

The floor cracked beneath his feet, and sent him stumbling again. "YOU ARE AN INTOLERABLE _VANIR_ BITCH!" Loki added in just so he could have the last word. He took his sorry—no, he wasn't sorry at all, more like angry and bitter—self back to his room where he flopped himself down, belly down. His hair splayed around his head like a giant ink blot against the gold sheets. He felt like an ink blot at the moment. Hearing his name called a second later sent him snarling, "_What?_" There truly was no rest for the wicked. With a heavy sigh, the God turned his head to see Kevin in the doorway. He was young, on the cuspid of thirteen years. The boy's blond hair was curly and unruly, but his hair matched his quirky body. He was at the awkward stage between a boy and man; just starting to lose that baby fat in his face but not enough to give him any real authority as anything but a boy. His blue eyes would always appear boyish. Kevin seemed determined to forget any affiliates with being a child. He took to wearing jeans, a white t-shirt, and a matching fedora and blazer so he looked more adult-like. Kevin opened his mouth but stuttered. "Well, out with it, boy," Loki growled.

"S-s-s-s-si-si-sigyn's c-c-c-cr-cr-crying," he mumbled.

"Let her cry," he said indifferently. The God turned his head the other way and closed his eyes.

Whatever hopes he had that the boy would leave were shattered seconds later. "Are you two going to get a divorce?" he asked timidly. Kevin went from glancing at the ground to Loki, then back to the ground, to Loki, and then to the ground.

"No." Short, sweet, and to the point.

"Are you sure?"

Damn kid didn't know when to shut up... He was just about to force him to shut up if he didn't quiet himself. "Yes," Loki groaned.

"How do you know?" He sighed into the covers. The Fates were just having so much fun making his life miserable. "Ma and Pa said they would never get a divorce, and they got one. It started out like this too... a bunch of yelling, and Ma crying." Loki whimpered when he felt the belt shift as Kevin sat beside him. The God was thankful he could blame the whimpering on his sore shoulder and not for feeling sorry for himself. Kevin fumbled with his fingers and twiddled his thumbs. "They separated, and then didn't speak to each other. One day they just got a divorce. If all they did was just say they were sorry and forgive each other like they told me when I did something wrong or someone wronged me, then that wouldn't have happened."

"Our business is not the concern of mortals, boy," he spoke.

"But it is," he replied quickly but sullenly. "Cause if you two get divorced, then our family will fall apart. I really like this family. It's the first family I've had since Ma and Pa divorced. It's really been the first time I've had a mother-like person in my life since I was young." Kevin was silent for a moment and then... "Don't tell Sigyn I said that though! She'll start forcing me to do my homework," he added with a hefty amount of worry.

Loki was quiet, not wanting to talk, and Kevin fell silent as well. The God mulled over his words because he wanted to forget all that had just transpired with Sigyn. Instead of his heart feeling lighter, it felt heavier and cancerous, dangerous to his health. He forced himself to sit up properly, but he found himself slouching to avoid physical discomfort. "You have not seen your mother?" he inquired.

Kevin shook his head. "Last time I saw her was when I was seven," he spoke drearily. "Pa took me away from her because he was indicted by SHIELD—" Loki's eye enlarged at this bit of valuable information. There was no way this was coincidence. No, Sigyn had chosen him for a reason, and it was because Erik was related to the SHIELD department. Now what was she up to...? "On some charges and would never be allowed to see me again. So he took me, and we've been on the run since. I don't mind because I don't want Pa to go to jail but ..."

"You hate him for doing so as well," Loki finished.

Kevin nodded. "I haven't felt as if I've been apart of any family until now," he admitted. The boy smiled towards Loki. "I forgot what it was like to be part of a family until Sigyn brought us all together. She enjoys it as well; said something about this is the first time she has felt apart of a family since her father." That perked Loki's interest. The first family since her father? He rested his head on his hand as he stared off blankly to the wall, but his mind was anything but blank at the moment. His mind was overrunning with thoughts and emotions, and fruitlessly trying to neatly organize them away. About the only thing he could grasp was that Njörðr and his family were not Sigyn's family, at least in her mind or heart, maybe both? He wasn't quite sure anymore. He wasn't quite sure if he wanted to know either at this point. "Did you know her father?" he inquired.

He shook his head. "No," the God responded. "Sigyn was adopted by Njörðr long before I met her. Did she talk about him with you?"

The mortal shrugged. "She'd make references to him on occasion," he answered. "Nothing specific. She always became quiet after talking about him before leaving. I don't think she likes to remember him. I think it upsets her."

"How much does speaking of him upset her?"

"Enough," he mumbled.

"How much is enough?" Loki asked again; his voice was already growing more agitated from having to ask a second time.

"She cries," Kevin whispered. He glanced up from his hands to wearily look at his God. "Did you mention her father?"

"Yes," Loki said bluntly.

"If you knew she got upset over her father, would you still have mentioned him?" The trickster didn't answer; which made the answer very obvious—he still would have mentioned him. He had to admit Sigyn was right on the accord, he did enjoy setting fires, burning bridges, and listening to people scream and shout and cry. Loki enjoyed hearing those yelps and whimpers from suffering people because he wanted them to suffer just he thought he himself suffered for centuries. "If you say your sorry, she'll forgive you."

"I do not need to be forgiven," Loki sneered primitively. He looked haughtily to the window and to the stars. Soon it would be the other realms beginning for his forgiveness for failing to accept him. They would be at his mercy, and he would turn his back on them just as they did him. He breathed out, looking forward to that day. "Sigyn needs to move pass the past. What is done cannot be undone."

"But you're Loki," Kevin mumbled. The God twisted his head to the boy, unsure what to make of the compliment.

After a moment of contemplation, he smirked. "That I am," he purred. Loki watched as Erik the magpie came flying into the room and landed on his thigh. With his hand, he took the magpie in hand and raised the bird up to Kevin's view. The more Erik squirmed, the tighter Loki held onto him. The God smiled as Erik gasped, and he caught Kevin uncomfortably watching but unable to tear his eyes away or speak out against his God. "This is what happens to those who rebel against my given right to rule."

"I would _never_ betray you, Loki," the boy swore out of both fear and respect. Of those two, Loki enjoyed the fear in his voice much more than respect.

"Good," the God hummed. Loki passed the bird to Kevin as he stood. His fingers curled around something in the air, and a moment later, the staff with the Tesseract condensed into a solid form. He walked out of the room, tired of the mortal boy and of this place; though, he knew in his heart he only tired of this place because of Sigyn. Loki was relieved when the world went up in smoke around him, and a blast of cold air raced over his body.

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><p><strong>AN: **Well, back to square one with Loki and Sigyn. I blame both of them at this point and honestly think they need to go see a marriage counselor. Because obviously Sigyn has some major problems with Odin that she is carrying, and is taking part of that frustration out on Loki. Which she shouldn't be doing... And then Loki is just being a troublemaker and stirring the pot. Granted, I am glad he called her out on using him for her inclinations. But I really enjoy how Sigyn says she is not Vanir. Then the yelling just continues because they do not know how to communicate well on sensitive subjects. Like on meaningless stuff they get along, but as soon as they hit a hot topic, they go bonkers. But at least they are able to talk about meaningless stuff. Just gonna take some time to talk about important stuff.

And Kevin is introduced! Finally! I've been waiting to bring him in for so long and relate his story to the Avengers. He and his father are both canons that I'm updating to be 21st century-esque! _MUWAHAHAHA!_ So yes, Sigyn specifically hired Kevin's father, Erik Masterson, because he used to be part of SHIELD and then was screwed over by them. What greater plans Sigyn has for Erik M. we'll just have to wait and see. :)


	16. Chapter 16

**Tearing God Asunder**

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><p><strong>AN:** Another long chapter!

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><p>Jötunheimr was a refreshing breath of air compared to that compound Loki had been caged in for far too long. Seeing the stony, ebon' walls surround him in an open space architecture that reminded him of the Vanir brought light smile to his devious lips. He watched for a moment how the fire played off the ice, and the way the rare rays of sunlight came through the frozen liquid to give the room a bit of light and warmth to an otherwise bleak and dismal world. He could not imagine what Jötunheimr might have looked in its day. Perhaps it had been a great city like Asgard or merely a religious city to honor its founding father, Ymir. But even if Jötunheimr rose from the ashes, the God would always remember this place as it was now, an example of Odin's power to destroy. He looked down to his blue hand. This place would also be an example of how ruthless Odin was in politics.<p>

"So the Eldjötunn has returned," mumbled a raspy voice. Loki turned to see Þrymr, Thrym as the Æsir called him, standing underneath the arch. He was among the largest of Jötunn and towered an astounding twenty-seven feet; and he was all brute beneath the desperation and jade armor on his skin. Like his brothers and sisters, he too was weary from the years of living in a dying world. The way his red eyes rested on Loki told him the Jötunn had seen much in life but cared not to speak about such things. As Loki had learned, Þrymr was quiet giant, half due to having a good portion of his vocal cords ripped from his throat, and half because he simply did not have much to say. For Þrymr was doer, and a good doer at that; that had been one of the reasons why Loki was as fond of Þrymr as he was. But Þrymr was also observant, annoyingly so. Nothing seemed to miss his gaze, including Loki's tricky words, but today, his eyes rested on Loki's strange attire. Cloth was an exotic treasure on Jötunheimr, considering most creatures in the dismal realm were rough and suited to survive.

Loki gestured to his clothing with a smirk. "I shall exchange you this cloth for some proper attire and a healer," he proposed. Þrymr cocked his head to the side, trying to find the wound on the trickster. Loki brought his left hand to his right shoulder and winced. "I used a healing stone for the initial healing; however, the wound is too deep for a healing stone. I need a person more specialized in that area." He walked by Þrymr and down the halls that once belonged to Laufey. Þrymr followed closely behind him. It was still ominous to walk through this crumbling walls, haunting really. Loki felt as if Laufey's spirit had remained here and was watching him. "Are the armies ready for the trek to Asgard, Þrymr?" he inquired to fill the silence he loathed.

Þrymr nodded.

"Good," he complimented. "We shall leave promptly after a healer attends to me."

"We leave _now_," Þrymr argued in a whisper. "Our people cannot last another day."

"They have lasted this long, they can last another day," Loki growled.

"Do you seek to evade your plans entirely?" the Jötunn insisted.

The God glanced irritatingly over his shoulder to him, and his lips pursed at such accusations. "Why would you consider such actions?" he criticized. "Do you _not_ trust me?"

"You have been gone much," he grumbled. "Why?" Loki thought for a moment on how to answer the question. "Speak from your heart not your mind, Eldjötunn." Þrymr came closer and took a whiff of his scent from the top of his black a hair, and Loki cringed at the bluntness of such actions. "You have Midgardian stench," he whispered.

"I have been there making arrangements," he clarified. "I have allied myself with Loki Odinson, the future king of Midgard."

"Do not ally yourself with him," Þrymr suggested in his rumbling voice. "He is like his father."

"Laufey?" the God inquired.

"No, Laufey was a good Jötunn," he explained solemnly. His eyes drifted to the empty throne room where his king once sat with his wife one leg, his youngest son on the other, and his eldest son beside them like a protector. Þrymr stopped to gaze at their ghosts, and Loki gave it a passing glance—he didn't want to risk seeing the ghost of Laufey. The Jötunn sighed at the lost of his friend. "But as you are an Eldjötunn, I have doubts you respect him much after he, Woden, and Hœnir killed Ymir. Granted, we ourselves did not have much respect for Laufey when he was forced upon as our new king, and he too did not like that responsibility of being king; but alas, being pronounced king was his punishment."

"I still do not see how that could possibly be a punishment," Loki sneered with a roll of his eyes.

"Before he became king, he was reckless man, much like Woden," Þrymr told. "He cared not for responsibilities or consequences. He thought himself above the rest like Woden. So, Surtr thought of the worst possible punishment for Laufey for murdering the Father of All. What greater punishment could there be for one who loathed responsibility than being forced to be a king of the Jötunn? _None_. So, Surtr stripped all of the elements of fire from Laufey before instilling the heart of thousands of winters into him; thus, changing him from an Eldjötunn, a Fire Giant like yourself, to simply a Jötunn, a Frost Giant. In the process of his punishment, Laufey did not become that which is now Woden. He became something greater than Woden. Laufey passed this onto his sons, Helblindi and Býleistr. If Loki had been raised by Laufey, he too would have turned out like his elder brothers." Þrymr guided Loki to one of the many empty guest rooms. "But Loki is like Woden and deserves the name Odinson. He is _unworthy_ of being called Laufeyson."

It was hard for Loki not to lash out at Þrymr because he, in his own mind, did not deserve to be called Odinson when he was not the blood son of Odin; he readily disagreed on the reason why he should not be considered Laufeyson, but agreed on the conclusion he should not have the surname of Laufeson. "You respect Laufey, even after all that he did to this realm?" he inquired.

"Do not insult Laufey for he paid the highest price and greatest suffering of all," Þrymr threatened. He bowed his head as if his king were in his presence. "Woden murdered his family. Fárbauti had to drag her fatally wounded son, Helblindi, to the temples so that he died in her arms, and in the process, she herself was fatally wounded. She died not long after Helblindi, leaving the youngest son, Loki, abandoned in the temples." What little bit of a voice he had was creaking and ready to beak. "Young Býleistr was lost to us as well, killed by Baldr."

Loki swallowed as doubts of his disguise began to creep into his mind. Did Þrymr know he was both Utgard-Loki and Loki Odinson? Surely, he had to if he knew Laufey. Even Loki, when he first met his blood father, knew he looked like a spitting image of him. He strained to keep his red eyes forward on the wall so that, if the Fates were being kind, Þrymr wouldn't see the worry growing inside of him. "So you knew Laufey?" he inquired hesitantly.

"No," Þrymr answered. Loki breathed a sigh of relief. Never had the trickster been so grateful in his life. "I never met him in person, but I knew him well through the stories of Fárbauti. Her and my families have been close as brothers since the beginning of time. I considered her my sister, and she considered me her brother. Helblindi and Býleistr both considered me to be a second father to them." A small tear fell from his face but froze within seconds.

"You shall have your revenge soon, Þrymr," Loki insisted as he brushed away the past.

"This is not for revenge," the Jötunn clarified.

"Oh? Then pray tell why you seek to go to Asgard?" he inquired with tilt of his head and devious smile.

"There are many reasons," he replied frankly. That was the end of his answer, and Loki knew he would get no better answer from him. Þrymr held out his hand as he eyed the soft cloth. The God unethusiastically stripped himself of his only clothing before begrudgingly handing it to the king. The Jötunn's thick, calloused fingers wrapped possessively around the soft delicacy, and then turned his back to Loki. "Rest today. Tomorrow we leave," he grumbled.

But rest did not come easy to Loki. He stayed in the crumbling room, staring through the walls and into his thoughts while a weary, heavily scarred Jötunn by the name of Arild worked on his shoulder. The God did his best not to moan, groan, whimper, or yelp at the pain, but there were moments when he could not help but try to vent the pain. But he was also glad for the pain because it always came when his thoughts about Midgard became too serious for him. They became serious every time his mind wandered to Sigyn...

She was depressing to be around for long periods of time, whether it was in person or in his memories.

Simple.

As.

That.

He questioned himself why he had even wanted to himself to her in the first place. Sigyn had proven to be a stubborn, persistent, arguementive bitch. Yes, she might on the outside been a queen wrapped in her beautiful garments that clung to her curves, but on the inside she was an ugly troll, and seeing her every time was painful to his eyes. Loki didn't quite understand how such a beauty could be such a monster on the inside. She was nightmare come true, and one he couldn't simply wish away, not now. He wanted to kick himself hard in the ass for even engaging her in that blaster diner. He should've left her alone to protect that insignificant mortal. He should've left her alone in the gardens instead of trying to coax her out into the open. Loki closed his eyes and shook his head, trying to recall the reason he had even cared about a silly girl.

Oh wait, that was back in the days when he was friendly and blissfully ignorant to the reality around him.

Back in the days when he still believed he could be king of Asgard.

And back in the days when Thor still considered him an equal.

And back—Loki smiled, almost laughing—before he had discovered sorcery.

The God sighed. It seemed so long ago, like a distant dream or some farfetched fairy tale. Yet, it wasn't because the proof of those days was Sigyn. He smiled sadly at the image of the timid, bare-foot girl slinking in the shadows of the tall grass. She had those large, ever so large, gloomy gray eyes that reminded him of storm clouds. Sigyn, in those days, had looked as if she had never smiled or seen the sunlight. Her lips were always pulled into a frown, and she carried herself as if her spirit had been broken. Even when dressed in a beautiful gown for a young girl, she was sullen. Loki buried his head into his hand at the memory of her younger self.

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><p><em>Loki was young, just about to turn eight in a few days. He sat on a rotting log in the vast field that spread out before the Hall of the Hostage-King and was encloused by the limestone walls. Sigyn, for a rare moment, sat beside him, busily keeping to her sewing. For once, the young prince was silent and watched impatiently as she continued to ignore him. "Do you ever talk, Sigyn?" Loki demanded to know. <em>

_She glanced up at him for second before returning her eyes to the ground. This was now the seventh visit, and she had refused to talk to Loki. She did not quite understand why Frigga had to bring her son with her when she came to see the Hostage-King. All he did was chatter non-stop like a bird, but unlike a bird, his voice wasn't nearly as pleasant after a few minutes. Sigyn sighed as he asked her again. "I wish not to speak to your kind," she answered. _

_He laughed full heartedly at her silly statement. "We are the same, Sigyn!" he argued. "The Æsir and Vanir are one now since your father lost the war many years ago! Even the elves are Æsir now!" Loki leaned towards her and pried her fingers away from her sewing. She did not rebel as he had predicted. The young girl just let him have his way with her. The prince dropped the sewings to the ground before he leaned closer to her. "Do not be a sore loser simply because your father lost the war! The Vanir are now under the protection of my father, the Allfather, the greatest king to ever live!" he added enthusiastically. Loki grinned from ear-to-ear as he spoke. "We both have gained much from the treaty that came from the war!" His grin turned into a sudden frown when she did not share in his passion. He huffed, folded his arms, and turned away from such a sour-puss. "Pray tell me what could have been so bad to make you never smile, Sigyn?" he asked harshly. _

_He only turned back to her when he heard a sob bubble from her lips. Loki stared at her, watching as she folded over herself and cried openly in front of him. Her soft face turned hard and red from the tears sliding down her cheeks and snot dripping from her nose and onto her quivering lips. The prince swallowed a gulp of air as he hesitantly placed a hand on her back, trying to remember what his mother did to him when he used to cry as a toddler. He gently rubbed her back as her sobs came out with more force and anguish. "Sigyn, stop crying," he asked, growing very upset as well. "I-I-I-I did not mean to upset you, please," Loki begged. _

_"Sigyn!" The young prince turned his head to the sound of Njörðr's voice. The Hostage-King was a man caught between his prime and the last of his years. He was weary from the lines on his face from a hard life both victory and loss. While he appeared wise, his wisdom only came at the cost of loss. When he carried himself, like he did now on the way to the two young children, he did so with heavy, bare feet. His hunched back and loose clothing made him appear nothing more than a commoner. Nothing about him made him stand out as anything but a commoner. His skin was darker but so was his hair and eyes. Under better circumstances, Loki might have asked him how such a common-looking fellow rose to the position of king. _

__Njörðr came to Sigyn and wrapped her up in his arms and began to slowly rock her back and forth like one did with wailing babe. "I did not not mean her any harm!" Loki said hastily. "I merely asked her a question."_ Njörðr looked up from his daughter to the young prince, whose concern was torn between his own well being and Sigyn. He shook his head, and the young prince understood the implied message. Never ask her about the past again.___

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><p>He had forgotten that memory until now, and Loki was glad he had forgotten the memory for the most part because reliving Sigyn crying was never a pretty sight. Even now, his heart clenched for the young, ever mournful Sigyn<em>. <em>Little girls were not suppose to be so heavy with sadness. They were meant to skipping through the fields with crowns made of flowers. But Sigyn wasn't the sad little girl now, at least for the most part. Or maybe she was, and her sadness came out as rage instead? Loki nodded to himself before hitting the ground with his hand. How could he have been so stupid as to forget the advice of Njörðr? Or for the matter, as something as important as that memory?

He took a deep breath as he leaned into Arild's discomforting touch_. _Loki groaned as he felt his shoulder pop back into its socket. Another pop came from his shoulderblade as the Jötunn fumbled with it. Loki breathed out slowly as he opened his eyes. He narrowed his eyes onto the small hole in the wall that was covered in ice to serve as a constant for him while he suffered.

But who was Sigyn's constant while she suffered the consequences of Father's actions?

He could think of no names.

Loki would not admit to himself in the private space of his skull, nor even in the cavity of his chest, that he felt more a kindred spirit to Sigyn now. In his mind, he did not want to acknowledge such feelings like sympathy and empathy. Those emotions were there nonetheless__, __no matter how much he cared to remain blissfully ignorant. At least then, by being ignorant, he could keep himself from the truth and the pain that came with the truth. His chin rested on his chest, but he kept his eyes on that single constant in the room that kept him from the physical and emotional pain.

"You are quiet, Eldjötunn," Arild commented. "Quite contrary to what Þrymr has spoken about thee."

The God laughed. "I am anything but silent in my mind," he answered.

"That is what I feared," the Jötunn replied.

"What is there to fear, Arild?" Loki questioned. "Jötunheimr is about to rise from the ashes."

"Nothing, I suppose then," he responded distantly.

"Good," he chirped. "Then go tell Þrymr I seek an assembly with him and the generals."

Arild stood and looked down at Loki. "What of Surtr?" he inquired.

"Surtr?" Loki inquired as he stood. He moved to the corner of the room where the servants had brought him what jade armor earlier in the night. He began to apply the jade armor to his legs first and froze it in place with a bit of ice. "I was unaware Surtr would be joining us in the raid against Asgard. Is he here?"

"Yes," Arild answered to all of his questions.

Loki tossed his a famous smirk. "Then he is welcomed to the assembly as well," he boasted.

"When should I ask of them to assemble, Utgard-Loki?"

"Now, would be best," the God clarified.

The Jötunn nodded to his orders before briskly leaving the room.

Arild was thorough in following orders, from all the commotion Loki heard as he made his way down the many halls and into the throne room. Beside the throne stood Þrymr, and on the other side, Surtr. He was surprised that between the two reigning Jötunn that neither sought to sit on the throne. The rest of the ten generals sat on the ground and turned their eager, red eyes to him. Loki did not mind those stares, but he did mind the stare Surtr gave him as he approached the kings. He was scrutinizing him because of his small stature. Loki found this rather ironic considering Surtr stood about a good two inches shorter than Loki. The God also found this intriguing since he had assumed all Jötunn, including Eldjötunn, were massive. But here was Surtr, a Eldjötunn, with blue skin, iron armor, and red eyes was shorter than himself!

"I was expecting someone bigger, Surtr," Loki spoke happily as he approached.

The Eldjötunn turned his diamond-shaped and wrinkled head quizzically to the left, and his inky, straight black hair followed. That too, Surtr's elbow-length hair, caught Loki's attention because none of the Frost Giants had hair. Now he was beginning to understand why Þrymr considered and called him an Eldjötunn. "You ought to know, as an Eldjötunn yourself, that we are only large when in our element," Surtr answered with a grin that unnerved Loki more than he liked. "Otherwise, we are small but far more durable than our counterparts." Surtr turned his head to Þrymr with an overly cocky smile. "We do not melt till we are nothing like the Jötunn from here."

"We may melt till we die, but at the very least, we are much stronger than you!" argued one of the generals from the back.

"Tell me that when you are melting on Múspellsheimr," he retorted. Surtr turned on his heels to face Loki, but took a moment to look over him. "Now, what news does Utgard-Loki have that would cause us all to stirr from our sleep to come together? I hope it is a good reason because I am cranky when I do not get my rest." He ended viciously, and if he could have, probably staked Loki in the heart.

"I come to speak of what shall come tomorrow," Loki answered in a strong tone. He wanted to let Surtr know he was not about to be bullied by any Jötunn, including him. "We shall invade Asgard. You may do as you please with the city but leave the Hostage-King alone."

Surtr laughed. "Leave the Hostage-King alone?" he mocked. "We are to let him slaughter us instead of the Asgardians? That would be a great insult to our strength!"

"_You_ are to leave the Hostage-King alone," the God clarified with more ferocity. "I shall address him personally _and_ alone."

"Why alone?" Surtr prodded. "What are you hiding from us?"

"I hide nothing," Loki answered. "I have personal business concerning family matters to discuss with him."

Þrymr leaned towards Loki. "You have family?"

Wrong choice of words caught too late. Loki went blank as he tried to find how to undo what he had done. "Yes," he answered finally.

"Who is your wife then?" Surtr asked quickly, too eager for Loki's own liking.

"That is _none_ of your concern," he said through gritted teeth.

"Why not? Do you fear Wōdanaz will slaughter them as he did the family of Laufey?" Loki followed Surtr's gaze out into the small crowd. All ten of them rose to the feet, enraged by the memory of what had occured. They were anxious for battle and redemption and revenge. It appeared it took everything each and everyone of them had to remain there and not simply charge off to Asgard right then and there. "Wōdanaz shall pay for his crimes as the Father of Slaying! Ragnarök is upon us! It is now the time for the Jötunn to rule over Yggdrasil once more! Restore what the Æsir have destroyed! Cleanse what the Æsir have corrupted! Make it once more like it was before Wōdanaz!" They cheered him on with defeaning roars! "Go now! Spread word that tomorrow the Æsir shall be no more!"

Loki watched as Þrymr led the generals out of the room and to the armies gathered around the hall. Not to his surprise, Surtr stayed behind so he could stand in front of Loki alone. Surtr's face softened a bit as he stared at him, but his eyes were still hard as the rocks on the volcanos on Múspellsheimr. The God allowed the Eldjötunn to tip his head down with two fingers so Surtr could have a better look. "You have the face of your father and the body of your mother," Surtr whispered. Loki's heart dropped and hit the floor. The God was sure he could hear it flopping helplessly like a fish out of water. Surtr only smirked before he let go of Loki after that and headed away to follow Þrymr. "Perhaps someday I shall have the pleasure of calling you my grandson as well," he added optimistically.

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><p><strong>AN:** I had so much fun writing this chapter! It didn't turn out like I planned, but the end result was the same!

Now where to begin? I guess Thrym is a good starting place. Thrym, according to Norse mythology is the King of the Jotun, but in the marvel comics, Utgard-Loki is King of the Jotun. So I went for a middle ground there with them both sharing power. I dearly love Thrym. I'm growing more and more Team Jotun! Back on track, I wanted to be able to bring in Laufey's family and the history somehow; which is why I made Thrym a good friend of Farabouti. AND FINALLY, we get to see a bit more of Laufey's history! I've been dying to finally write his history! So first off, Laufey was sworn blood brothers with Odin and Hoenir at one time, and all the great trio killed Ymir. This is another way of trying to infuse Norse mythology with the Marvel verse. As punishment for killing the Father of All-a nickname I gave to Ymir-Laufey was stripped of being a Fire Giant and turned Frost Giant. Then he was forced to be king. We also see a bit of his family with Helblindi, Blyliestr, and Farabouti. Laufey lost all three of them... and Loki. I wanted to put this in so badly because in the film, Laufey says he knows the consequences of war. When he says it, he has this very distant look like he's recalling a memory of his family. I can't imagine how awful that had to be for Laufey. AND ON TOP OF IT, Laufey called Odin a murderer. So having Odin kill his entire family would make sense for Laufey to call him that. We also get a bit into why Loki was abandoned. Unlike the comics where Laufey simply abandoned Loki because he was small, we see Loki was abandoned because his mother died in the temples beside his brother Helblindi. I wanted to do this because Norse!Odin doesn't always tell the full truth; hence why he is also called a god of deceit in Norse mythology. I had to bring this into the story with Odin not telling Loki why he was abandoned.

Then Sigyn is in this chapter as well. I can't elaborate too much on this because I don't want to give anything away. But simply put, Loki realizes Sigyn might have only been nasty to him in their last fight because he brought up her past. He recalls just how upset Sigyn was as a child when he asked about her past. For the first time, we see Sigyn has some skeletons hiding in her closet.

Cue Surtr! For those of you who do not recall from previous chapters, Surtr is the eldest living creature in the universe and king of the fucking Fire Giants, also called Eldjötunn. I had a lot of fun designing the Fire Giants. To begin, Fire Giants, unlike Frost Giants, will not die if they go outside their element. Frost Giants, for those who have read the comics, will begin to melt if they spend too much time in a warm climate. They won't die immediately but just kind've melt like an ice cube. Which that is very appropriate considering they are Frost Giant. So running with this idea, I figured Fire Giants would be capable of living anywhere since you can start a fire virtually anywhere in the world; however, a fire won't become big unless certain conditions are met. Hence, Fire Giants are small unless they are in these conditions. Then I added in the additional spin that Fire Giants can appear to look like Frost Giants since Giants, according to Norse mythology, are nature spirits. So I would assume that Fire Giants have the rare ability to adapt to virtually any climate then. So what Fire Giants would lack in strength, they would make up for being able to adapt. While vice versa, Frost Giants are strong but unable to adapt. Wow... Long bunny trail! And probably my favorite part is where Surtr tells Loki he knows who he truly is, and then says he hopes to be able to call him his grandson some day.

I'm going to leave and chill out now. Cheers!


	17. Chapter 17

**Tearing God Asunder**

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><p><strong>AN:** Bare with me, this is a longer chapter, but I think you'll enjoy the end result.

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><p>Loki had been living in a state of panic since the last citing of Surtr. He was busily making preparations in his head for when the King of Múspellsheimr would reveal him. He had originally thought that it would be best to flee immediately after that "nice," little talk, but the God didn't want to alert all of Jötunheimr that he was the one who had tried to destroy them. Then he would truly have no where left to hide in the nine realms. Well, he could return to Midgard, but Loki feared that Sigyn might successfully land a good blow to him if she learned he unsuccessfully stopped the war against Asgard. And so Loki decided the best course of action was to stay with the Jötunn and beg the Fates to spare his life.<p>

So far, his prayers appeared to be working. Þrymr did not treat him any differently, nor any of the other Jötunn for the matter. The armies, comprised of now both Jötunn and Eldjötunn quietly watched as he ascended to the high ridge to take his spot beside Þrymr and Surtr. Þrymr greeted him with a half-hearted smile, but Surtr refused to even make eye contact with the God, like Loki was below him. If his fate did not hang in the hands of the Eldjötunn, he would have made a comment about such mannerisms, especially considering who he was. "Lead us to Asgard, Eldjötunn," Þrymr ordered.

"The path is not far," Loki informed. He pointed to the rubble lurking in the shadow of the mountain. Þrymr grimaced at the sight and looked worriedly to his fellow king. Loki knew that expression well, but he could not despair this time. The God moved in front of Þrymr and Surtr to begin the trek to the ruins. "Come now," he ushered.

"We shall not," Þrymr answered.

"Why not?" the trickster asked harshly.

"That is a sacred place," he muttered. "That is the resting place of the Father of All."

Loki looked back to Þrymr and the nearest soldiers. They all stood still and against his will, resting their red eyes on him. "The Father of All still lives. His body has become a branch of Yggdrasil, offering us a new opportunity to save ourselves. Should we not take the opportunity, then we would be disrespecting what Ymir has provided us."

Þrymr looked to Surtr, who sighed. "If our people die, then the truth of Ymir shall die with us. We cannot allow that to happen," Surtr spoke loudly. "Bow to him as you pass by him, and thank him for continuing to be our father!" There were some faint cheers that followed, but the majority were content with just nodded to the order. The Eldjötunn quickly stormed to Loki's side to whisper, "You best thank him as well." Loki gave him the smallest nod, but that little conformation was all Surtr needed. The Eldjötunn King pushed Loki back so he could lead the way to Ymir's resting place.

Þrymr caught Loki and smiled. "You first," he commented. Loki was more than happy to oblige the command.

The trek there was not quite as painful or long to the God's surprise. He had always found the trek to be dreary and boring, but there was an excitement that raced through him when he heard the footfalls of the Jötunn behind him. This was different than even the numerous times he and his brother had alone charged into battle. Something about leading an entire fucking army was envigorating. He found himself anxious to see Asgard through the eyes of a Jötunn. He was even more anxious to see the fires burning and smell the terror of the citizens, but most of all, for his father to see the consequences of having wrong him his entire life.

"You treat yourself as a victim when it is your who twist his words," Sigyn's voice whispered venemously in the back of his head. "That is _pathetic_."

Loki shook his head and groaned. There appeared to be no place he could hide from Sigyn anymore, not even in his own mind. How annoying... He huffed as he tried to push her out of his thoughts. For a moment, it worked, but then she was right back there, haunting him. Loki highly doubted that their threads allowed for her to stalk him, but he didn't dismiss the idea. Sigyn was a clever, resourceful girl; one of the many reasons he enjoyed her company. He grunted at the thought and at the rock he climbed. He narrowed his eyes on the approaching ruins, but they were filled with anything but joy. His light blue irises were as sharp and cold as Jötunheimr. Sigyn was ruining his moment! He growled underneath his breath at her.

Why couldn't she just leave him alone?

Then he asked himself why he didn't just simply let her leave after their last fight. It would solve so many problems, but, and he always hated the "but," who knew what she would do then? He let her _too_ close, and now she could ruin everything he wanted. Loki took in a deep breath to calm himself. He couldn't go to Asgard distracted like this. He'd be taken down by Odin within moments. Loki closed his eyes as he followed in Surtr's path. He was foolish to believe he would be anybody's choice—didn't Sigyn say she chose him over Asgard? That would be her choice, wouldn't it? The God dismissed it though, because choosing him or Asgard was the equivalent of choosing the lesser of two evils. Loki cringed at his thoughts.

Did he?

Yes.

He just called himself evil.

"I am _not_," he muttered underneath his breath.

"Not what?" Surtr inquired bitterly.

"None of your concern," Loki retorted.

"You are the concern of everyone," the Eldjötunn answered. "Someone as powerful as you shall forever change Yggdrasil. I merely wonder if you shall do good or bad by that power?"

"I am most certaintly good," the God spat, but inside his skull, all he heard were the rumors he heard for years in Asgard. The Prince of Evil they had called him. He had not even been evil then, just a tincy bit devious. He glowered at them, the voices in his head. In his heart, Loki truly wanted to live up to that name, just for one day, and make them see how evil he could be, just how much of a monster he was underneath the magic. He smiled maliciously at the idea, but quickly his smile turned into a frown. No, he wouldn't do that. He would not give into what they wanted him to be. But at the same time, that would mean caring about them.

They were insignificant now, all of them: Odin, Frigga, Thor, Sif, Fandral, Hogun, Volstagg, and the lot. Perhaps he should have been disturbed by how elated his heart was when he no longer felt obligated to care, but Loki didn't give it a second though. He chuckled underneath his breath, but no one questioned what he was laughing at, and probably for their own good. But Sigyn again squashed his moment. Loki frowned further as his lonely heart continued to beat at a painfully slow pace. His bones felt ten times heavier as her name echoed off his skull incessantly. In the depths of his gut, Loki knew this feeling was not about to go away any time soon. Part of him was actually happy that the feeling was not going away. He could not deny he was curious about why Sigyn, was, well Sigyn. Loki couldn't help but wonder what he had missed over the years.

When Loki thought about it, he knew quite little about her. He didn't even know her favorite color! Frustrated with the negativity, he scrambled to compile a list of what he knew about her. Sigyn was the adopted daughter of the Hostage-King, but did not consider him her father. Her biological father was dead, slain by Odin. From what he gathered from Kevin, he would bet the rest of her family was deceased as well. Her family was not Vanir ... So what was she?

She wasn't either a Dökkálfar and Ljósálfar clearly. Dökkálfar and Ljósálfar were ghost-like, weightless beings; which was not Sigyn. The Dökkálfar came in monotone shades of dark gray with soulless black eyes. Their counterparts, the Ljósálfar, had the palest, warm skin; bright, silver hair that glittered in the sunlight; and hollow, distant, white eyes. Sigyn with the up most certainty could not be either of those races or even a half-breed! So ... Loki sighed as he thought about the choices. She could an Æsir from Nornheimr, a half Æsir, or perhaps a Midgardian graced with the honor of eating a golden apple. He could not be quite sure because of how similar all three of the races appeared.

He turned his attention to matters he knew of with confidence. Sigyn possessed a great and finely crafted sword called Lævateinn. She had a knack for undoing magic or simplifying spells to their purest form. Loki picked up the pace as he thought more of her. Sigyn always loved the crusts on toasts and always ate the crusts he didn't. The God smiled at that little thing he had nearly forgotten. He saw it as a sign of encouragement for him to continue to find what he could of Sigyn. It was like a game, and Loki always enjoyed games, especially the challenge they presented. Let's see ... He knew she hated wearing shoes with a passion. She loved trees. By Odin's beard, did she ever love trees and climbing their branches to find a nice little niche to hide from the world. The more he thought about it, the more he began to realize how much Sigyn hide from the world.

She never actively went out of her way to boast about women's rights in Asgard like Sif did. She only attended feasts and assemblies because she was required. When she was required Sigyn was quiet and kept to herself unless someone struck a cord with her. Then she would be loud and boast her opinion or own comment. Otherwise, she was still very much a shy girl, Loki thought, only he had missed it because she cloaked herself in her proper mannerisms. He nodded to himself. Yes, Sigyn was still that shy girl, just a bit older and a little more worse for wear. But she was feistier, something which was different from the young girl he married.

Loki grumbled. He had missed something between then and now to change her but what?

_Theoric._

He was the only variable the God could think of that changed Sigyn. He was the only thing that changed after their sons. His fingers curled into fists at the thought of Theoric having enough gall to change a princess like Sigyn. How dare he! She was his _superior_. He was meant to change for her, not the other way! Loki's stomach twisted, and he tasted the foul flavor of disgust on his tongue. Somewhere he knew that however Theoric had changed Sigyn, it was not through kindness or support or else she would not be so vicious. Oh no, he had a much more ominous feeling. While Loki might have previously boasted that Sigyn deserved such punishment for abandoning him, but all he could think now was how _dare_ Theoric bully a helpless girl who had lost two sons. How much lower could one sink in the immoral pit?

Theoric couldn't.

And Theoric would pay for his sins in time; Loki promised himself. His anger shifted, directing its fury to the central question that annoyed him. What had happened to Sigyn to make such a young girl so pessimistic? The only person who might know would be the Hostage-King. Well, wasn't that a nice coincidence? Loki surely thought so.

"Loki," Surtr growled.

He blinked, coming back to reality. So deep in thought, the God had been unaware they reached the ruins. Loki stared in wonder at the crumbling, ebon' pillars that leaned dangerously upon each other, and looked as if a simple breath might push the whole thing over. But the ice that spread out from the crevices was strong and frozen the pieces in place for the rest of eternity. The snow on the inside swirled around his feet, almost tickling them. If Loki didn't know better, he would have thought the snow was trying to lighten the mood to the very sober mood that lingered inside the fallen citadel. There were remnants of the great architecture dating back to the very beginning etched onto the walls and engraved in the shattered artifacts. For the first time, the God noticed that the deep, purple blood from Ymir was frozen in time on the walls and the floor. He too lowered his head at the shame of the tragedy that had unfolded here. Loki could imagine how great the citadel must have looked before it fell. It would have been greater than Asgard itself.

"You see now, do you not?" Surtr asked somberly; he slowed his pace so he walked side-by-side with Loki. He looked around as he recalled marching through this halls when they stood tall and proud. "Wōdanaz has destroyed much in his reign. He has sought to destroy his heritage. Why I cannot imagine since we are all sons of Ymir."

"What else has he destroyed?" Loki inquired. Surtr looked somberly to him, and the God understood how much his father had destroyed.

"He has only become wise because he made so many mistakes as a young warrior. Sadly, others paid for those mistakes," he muttered. "But his reign must come to an end before Yggdrasil is torn in two." He sighed, and Loki saw how much Surtr did not wish to go to Asgard.

"You are only going out of duty?" the God inquired.

Surtr chuckled. "Clever like your mother," he remarked. "Very perceptive. And yes, only out of duty and only duty."

"Not even the faintest hint of an inclination?" Loki asked skeptically.

He shook his head. "No," the Eldjötunn breathed. "For I have lived long enough to know that most quarrels, whether they be with my dearest Sinmara or war with the Æsir, are insignificant. We Jötunn live for so long that if we held grudges against everyone who ever wronged us, well, eventually everyone would be an enemy. That 'tis why you must learn to let the past be the past, forgive, and move onwards and upwards. Many criticize me for being indifferent, but as the eldest sentient creature, I can use the excuse I have more experience." Surtr lightly jabbed Loki in the arm with an overly cocky smile. "It is a good excuse because no one can refute it! Silences most opposition."

"If you are indifferent, then why are you engaging, Odin?" he questioned. "Seems rather contrary."

"Out of duty," Surtr replied. "Wōdanaz is a threat to all the inhabitants of Yggdrasil. In the absence of our father, Ymir, his duty to keep peace among the majority of his children falls to me. I am prepared to do what is necessary to ensure life continues, even if that were to mean fighting Wōdanaz in a dream perpetually... And it is high time rule return to the Jötunn. As we are the first born race, it ought to be us who rule over Yggdrasil."

Loki nodded with a twisted, happy smile on his blue lips. He stopped in front of a crevice in the ground that spiralled endlessly into the darkness. "Here is the pathway," he spoke. "The path leads to a cave in the mountains surrounding Asgard. You shall be close to the end of the cave if you pass a room with a full bowl lying next to the skeleton of a man with iron bindings. Just beyond that you shall find Asgard. You shall have the advantage of high ground against the warriors. Baldr has never been particularly good at fighting from a disadvantage."

"Good to know," he said approvingly. "How long will the journey take to reach there?"

"Only as long as you imagine the path to be," Loki sneered.

"A riddle?"

"The truth," he answered curtly. The God didn't particularly like being questioned. "Relay the message to the rest. If they pretend the journey to be as short as a bat of an eye, then they shall be there in a bat of an eye." He went to move away from Surtr, but the Eldjötunn grabbed his shoulder. "Let go, Surtr," he growled. "I have business to attend to with the Hostage-King."

"Very well, then," Surtr said rather calmly. He thrust Loki into the abyss.

The God fell through the darkness momentarily before skidding and flopping like a ragdoll across the dank cave floor. He yelped and cried like a toddler as his shoulder was repeatedly subjected to the pain and pressure. Whatever Arild had done, he was sure was being undone right now. Loki groaned when he came to rest. But he could stay down and rest, even if his body screamed to remain. He pushed himself with a low moan. He winced at the creaking from his back. Yup, Loki was sure he'd feel that when he'd go home.

The word "home" echoed in his mind. Loki wondered what he would come home to after this? Would Sigyn have left? It wouldn't surprise him. He half didn't blame her because he too had left the compound to get some fresh air. The difference would be if she returned like he was going to after this. Loki was a bit anxious at the thought of returning home. He desperately wanted to know the answer to the question, but there were other questions that took priority. He materialized his staff and Tesseract before holding posessively onto the handle.

In a flash, the world changed. The rock were blown away to make room for the vast grassland spread out before the Vanir Hall. He looked fondly to the open, simple architecture that give the Hall such a light, warm feeling to the heart. The sight of the white stones instead of gold was softer on the eyes and gave the place a more worn look. Vines used the uneven stones to climb to the very roof of the tall palace. Their head-size flowers were in full bloom and came in deep, passionate shades of red with a yellow center. The bushes around the base of the hall had their fruit hanging temptingly from its branches. Loki's stomach growled for something sweet after eating a bland meal on Jötunheimr.

The thought was forgotten in a moment. He watched with deep amusement as the nearest guards, those under Bladr's control, came charging at him, a Jötunn. With a flick of his blue wrist, the guards were flung against the wall, and then fell unconsciously to the ground. But he frowned at the child's play. They were no challenge to him, but Loki would prefer them to be easy, especially with his right shoulder threatening to send him to a world of pain and misery. "Where is Njörðr?" he commanded. "I seek council with him and nothing more."

The guards in their gleeming gold armor stood at attention along the limestone steps; hesitation and fear rolled off of them like the sea spray on the waves. Loki's twisted heart felt lighter and wholer. Suddenly they twisted their heads before parting to make a path. A tragically frail man limped towards Loki. His trembling fingers grasped onto his old, worn, wooden staff for support; without it, there would simply be no way he could manage to walk. His short, dark hair was peppered with silver and white strands from the years of stress. Njörðr's face was gaunt and sunken, and the lines in his face made him appear soft and vulnerable. His eyes lacked luster, which concerned Loki more than any other physical ailment. He seemed so distant in those eyes, like he was burning out ... like he was dying. The God's eyes softened for the Hostage-King, just as his heart cringed at the sight of him. The trickster stood his ground, but he physically let the aggression in his flesh be flushed out. His breathed was caught behind the rock in his throat.

Never did Loki imagine he would see such a powerful sorcerer reduced to skin and bones and drowning in his simple beige garments. In his mind he knew the Vanir aged much faster than the Æsir, but his heart had refused to acknowledge such truths; he always believed that Njörðr would live as long as his father. His heart ached for the Hostage-King because his days were clearly numbered. Loki felt mournful already for when the old Hostage-King would pass because the nine realms would be losing a master witch, and more importantly, he would be losing the one who introduced the God to sorcery when he was a boy. In a way, Loki felt as if he were a son to Njörðr. The Hostage-King had always been fair to him, patient with him, and taught him how to control the supernatural. Even though he long ago surpassed Njörðr in magic, the God had always continued to look to him as the Father of Sorcery. He always would...

"You have my attention, Eldjötunn," Njörðr spoke from the bottom of the steps.

"I seek a private council," Loki clarified. He met the hunched Hostage-King as the bottom of the steps.

"You may speak in front of my men," he argued.

"These are not matters for their ears. I suspect you would not wish for them to hear either," he objected. "Now, if you know of a place where we can speak of domestic matters, say so now."

"Domestic matters?" Njörðr inquired. "What domestic matters?"

"Matters concerning your clan," Loki clarified. "Particularly your youngest daughter."

"Sigyn?"

"Yes."

Njörðr studied him and the subject hard for a moment before nodding. "Very well, Eldjötunn," he answered. "Come, we shall discuss her in my chambers." Loki grabbed his hand and motioned for the Hostage-King to stay.

"No need to walk," he snickered. Loki teleported himself and Njörðr to the famble chambers. The room had not change since Loki's last visit. The room was spacey with only a single bed of moderate size, complete with silk sheets and soft hides, and a dresser in the corner. The floors were the same off-white color as the walls. The only decoration on the walls was a family portrait of the Njörðr family huddled together.

"What do you want, Loki?" Njörðr asked. The God stared surprised that the Hostage-King had recognized him, but at the same time, he was not surprised. Not much escaped the notice of Njörðr, especially faces. Loki felt more relieved than anything.

"What do you know of Sigyn?" he demanded in a calm tone.

Loki watched as Njörðr let out a heavy sigh and bowed his head till his forehead rested against the cool glass. Njörðr had long expected this day to come, but he was still unprepared. "Odin brought Sigyn to me one day, Loki," he began to explain. "You were probably only about five or six at the time, the same age Sigyn was when I received her. Your father rode into my home with a tiny bundle wrapped in a blue blanket. One would have thought he killed an exotic beast and brought forth the carcass to show me by the way he boastfully walked towards me. It was not until He set the bundle down on the ground and lifted up a corner did I see it was the face of a young girl." He paused as he felt himself being dragged away from reality to his memories. "I had never seen someone so scared before in my life. She was paler than death itself, and her hair was the color of blood. She refused to look at me, but I could see the tears coming down her face. They were not the tears of a child who has scrapped their knee, but heavy tears, ones that could drown the world in sadness. I bent down and wrapped my arms around her because she was so vulnerable and needed to be protected. I looked up to your father and he simply told me to raise her well, and then he left.

"He told me nothing of Sigyn. She did not speak of anything. For many weeks she was a ghost, and she would only come into sight when she was ordered and because she feared for her life if she disobeyed. Often she came in tears, so badly she could not breath. I felt for her unlike I had felt for anyone else, Loki," he continued, even when the tears fell from his eyes. The Hostage-King licked away what tears fell onto his cracked lips. "I tried for weeks to reach her, but she did not respond. I assumed perhaps a man had wronged her from wherever she came, and I called your mother, Frigga to come. She came with Baldr the very same night I sent for her."

Loki nodded. "I remember Mother leaving in a fit one night when I was young," he commented.

"Yes, she was coming here to help with Sigyn. When Frigga came, she insisted on finding Sigyn herself. She found her in the gardens, hiding in the shadows. Your mother stayed with her, until she convinced Sigyn to come inside and draw with her. Sigyn refused at first. Frigga, asked again and again until she had no more wit. Well, when she had no more wit, Frigga ordered her, as her queen to come draw with her inside my hall. Sigyn followed but did not sob this time. I thought this was an improvement, and I left the two alone for the rest of the night.

"Frigga woke me up the next morning in my own chambers. She had been able to convince Sigyn to sleep in her own bed for the first time, but—" Njörðr ran a hand through his short, balding hair and hectically hurried to an old, small chest on top of his dresser. He opened it to pull out a bunch of scratchy, yellowing paper with black and red squiggles. The Hostage-King set them onto his bed so Loki could see. The God didn't quite know what he was looking at, considering they had been drawn by a young child. "Take a look closer," Njörðr encouraged. Loki leaned over the bed to study them better. He narrowed his eyes as he tried to make sense of the lines, and his jaw dropped when he realized the red lines were not the same as the black lines. The trickster stared wildly at Njörðr, confused and bewildered.

"What are these?" he questioned bitterly. But he already knew the answer in his torn heart.

"Those are what Sigyn drew with Frigga that night," Njörðr answered solemnly.

"She drew people dying!" Loki exclaimed. The words sounded so much worse aloud than in his head, and they were filled to the brim with shock, disgust, and grief. He flinched at horrible they felt to his ear.

Njörðr heaved a heavy breath as he nodded. "Yes, Sigyn drew what she had seen in her life," he said in a trembling voice. He looked over to Loki as very much a frail and heart-broken man. "I sought to inquire someday with your father about what Sigyn drew but ... and I guess it was my own fear that kept from going to Odin and finding out exactly what had happened to her. For that, I did her a great unjust." He bite his lip while looking around the room for the right words. "If I were to have been her father, a real father, I would have inquired what happened so I could help her understand what she had seen and try to mend the wounds, but I did not. For that, I am not her father. You should know, Loki, that even though she will never consider me her father, I consider her very much _my_ daughter. I worry for her the most of my children because she is the only one with an uncertain future."

Njörðr rested his eyes on Loki, and immediately Loki began to shake his head in denial to whatever was to come next out of the Hostage-King's mouth. He walked towards the God till he had Loki cornered against the door, and then he placed a hand on his shoulder. "I am old and weary, and I shan't be around much longer. I need to know that my Sigyn shall be okay so I may rest in peace. I am asking you, Loki, as my son to honor your vows and honor me by keeping her."

"I shan't be her keeper, Njörðr," Loki apologized?

"Why not?" he asked.

The God stared blankly at the Vanir man, not quite sure how to answer that question. So when the first reason popped into his head, he just spat it out without considering its consequences. "I cannot spend my time chasing after her. I have other duties," Loki defended.

"Duties are without inclinations. So all those desires to rule and prove yourself are not duties and hold no moral worth. The only duty you have is to be a husband and protect my Sigyn," the Hostage-King answered.

"I have not the time!"

"Then you are selfish!"

"No, I am _not_!" Loki growled.

Njörðr smirked happily. "Then you have time for my Sigyn."

"She does not love me!" The trickster spat hatefully. "And I do not love her!"

The Hostage-King stepped back at that remark. He folded his hands together as he considered what Loki had said. Then he shook his head as he frowned. "No, she loved you when she was young. You too loved her. Neither of you knew of that what you felt was love—probably thought it was nothing more than friendship—but the love was there, just fleeting," Njörðr answered slowly, thoughtfully. "I do not believe Æsir philosophy on love. I do not believe it is something grown like a plant. It's a fleeting, mischievous nymph that works in strange ways. You cannot control love because love is its own entity."

"If that were true, then I still have not loved her since I was but a boy," he hissed. "All we have ever done since we have grown up into adults is argue."

"No, you have not," Njörðr dismissed. "She loved you that night you made her dance barefoot in front of all of the great friends of Odin and Frigga. You loved her that night. And Sigyn loved you enough to bear the entire burden of your stitches without ego and without judgment." Loki's mouth dropped and his eyes bulged at that bit of information. That was suppose to be a secret between he and she! A guarded secret! "Yes, I do know about the stitches. I complimented Sigyn ever day she bore them for you. When Freyja would say she was foolish for doing so, I defended Sigyn for her choice when _you_ should have been defending her." His voice had grown sharp, and the Hostage-King was now aware of how threatening he was becoming. He sighed, turning his back to Loki. "Forgive me, I become frustrated because I know I do not have much time to ensure Sigyn will be okay. Love does that; makes you angry at times." He grazed his fingers over the soft furs on his bed while he looked out the window to the fires raging in Asgard. "I would not be asking this of any commoner or the royalty, Loki." He looked gravely to him, suddenly much like a ghost. "I am asking this of you because I know you are capable of great good, no matter what the gossipers say. I have _always_ seen great good in your heart; otherwise, I would never have taught you what I know. I would not have let my daughter marry you." Njörðr smiled confidently at his decision. "Will you honor the wishes of a dying man?"

The trickster turned away from him. He couldn't possibly face someone after those words. Loki looked to the picture on the wall of the Njörðr family and little Sigyn sitting properly on the footsteps of their hall. He stared at Sigyn. He found it hard to believe the shy girl grew up to be such a strong woman. He wished she was still a young girl so the decision was easier. His lips were pulled taunt and silent, but his mind was swarming with her. Loki couldn't get those images of the drawings out of her head, and he could fill the black squiggle lines with actual bodies and blood. As a man, the concept of death was easier to accept, but as a child? He rubbed his temples. It explained so much about her, but that didn't ease the tension on his heart. He couldn't fight the sorrow he felt for her. The empathic feeling was odd but appropriate. Loki looked over his shoulder to Njörðr, who was nothing more than a concerned father. The God realized that if his own children lived and he himself was about to die, he would do the same as Njörðr was right now. Loki was a bit ashamed to say the least that he had even waited this long to answer him, and he looked away from him and shook his head. "I make no promises," Loki sighed. He could hear the nail in his coffin being hammered.

The Hostage-King grinned. "That is good enough for me," he answered happily. Njörðr took Loki's left hand and slipped his wedding band onto the trickster's ring finger. Loki looked down at the simple, dirty gold band and then at the Vanir man. His doubts were chased away by the intensity of the passion in Njörðr's eyes. "Remember that I loved her first." He suddenly wrapped his arms around Loki. Caught off guard, the God didn't know quite how to respond to such intimate contact. "Remember that every time you see her," he whispered into Loki's ears. Njörðr's tears dripped onto Loki as he gave away his daughter for the first time. Loki gently padded the Hostage-King on the back to his own growing guilt. To his relief, Njörðr forcibly tore himself away from the God with his head hung low and heart breaking. "You best go now while Odin is distracted," he spoke distantly.

"You ought to come with me," Loki suggested. "Sigyn would be most delighted if you came."

He shook his head. "No, Sigyn does not need to see me like this," Njörðr objected. He didn't need to elaborate his reasons. Loki felt those reasons weighing heavily upon his heart and body. The God didn't take any pleasure from seeing the Hostage-King like this. He was filled with sorrow and regrets for all they he could have learned from Njörðr or what he could done for the Hostage-King.

Loki walked towards Njörðr, not quite ready to say his final goodbye to his mentor. "What is Sigyn?" he asked.

"That, my son, is a question for her," he replied. "Now go before Odin comes."

The God nodded and closed his eyes before bowing his head to Njörðr. "You shall be missed by more than she," he whispered. Loki opened his eyes to the familiar sight of his Midgardian room. His Jötunn armor clattered to the ground as the blue tints and ice faded from his skin. He mindlessly applied his dapper, ebon' coat over his slick and silky shirt and silver breastplate. The coat trails hung just below his knees. The God adjusted his black pants before letting his fingers fumble with the buttons. For the hell of it, he disguised the staff and Tesseract that rested in it as a cane with a silver top.

"Loki." He turned around at the sound of his name. In the doorway stood Sigyn, dressed in a modest, off-white, knee-length dress. She had a black ribbon tied into a bow around her waist; it was slightly off-centered and favored the left. She pursed her lips at him before deciding to frown. The Goddess folded her arms across her chest and huffed. "I was hoping to find a dog in your room again," she added disappointingly. Sigyn stepped forward as she scrutinized his hand. The horror leaked onto her face. "What are you wearing?" He covered his hand with his other hand. Loki smirked as Sigyn walked up to him and pried away his hand to see the gold band over his ring finger. She licked her lips and then bit on the lower one as she recognized whose ring this was.

"Njörðr is fine and shall remain fine," he spoke before she could accuse him of anything. Sigyn looked into his eyes to find the lie in his words. Loki looked strongly back at her while he curled his hand around hers. He gently squeezed her hand. "Did I not tell you he would be fine?" Loki held on as she tried to jerk her hand away. "Sigyn," the God whispered. She stopped what she was doing. Loki grimaced at those stormy gray eyes. They really could drown the world in sadness. Yet, here she stood before him despite whatever she had gone through; a testament to her inner strength. He was sure she would have the strength for what came next. "Njörðr is dying. His age has gotten the better of him," Loki informed regrettably. She stared vacantly and through him, completely unmoving. He wrapped good arm around her, and Sigyn leaned against him for support. Loki's back was pressed uncomfortably to the cold glass by her weight, but he didn't mind this time. He rubbed her back as she pressed her head against his heart and began to whimper. The God closed his eyes and listened because he enjoyed the comfort in knowing someone shared the same pain. He weaved his fingers through the hair along her crown to keep her head where it rested.

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><p><strong>AN: **AND BAM! The Jotuns invaded Asgard! I'm purposely not gonna discuss Surtr right now because I have no idea where that whole jazz is heading. And we meet Njord, but unfortunately on his death bed. He's so worried about Sigyn and making sure his daughter is okay. Really heart-wrenching because Njord is having to give his daughter away. Choosing Loki, someone he considers a son, and convincing him really shows how much he trusts Loki over any other Aesir, including Freyja. Then there is that Father-son like relationship they share, and I found it special that Loki still considers Njord a great sorcerer, even if he is now better at magic than his mentor. For those who do not know, Njord, in mythology, was very skilled with witchcraft (sorcery). So I liked the dynamic that Njord was the one who introduced Loki to magic and teaching him.

Well, I don't have the patience today to write out a long blog-thingy. I'm tired. And I need sleep. So until next time!


	18. Chapter 18

**Tearing God Asunder**

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><p><strong>AN:** I love this chapter.

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><p>Sigyn had eventually left him once she composed herself enough to overcome the initial shock and grief. He had not objected because he wanted some quiet time to himself to sort through everything. Resting on his bed on the softness of the sheets and pillows, took away the distraction of his aching body and made his thoughts sharp, clear, and concise. He stared at the ceiling with a satisfied smile sitting on his lips. The early evening light from the sun played off his eyes just right to reveal how intense the blue could be under the proper conditions. Loki felt at peace and content for the time being. He had successfully led the Jötunn to Asgard where the armies could lay waste to the Realm Eternal. He was only a tiny bit regretful that he would not have the pleasure of seeing Asgard personally fall, but at least he would have cleared himself, Loki Odinson and not Utgard-Loki, of having any involvement with the end of Asgard. Odin Allfather would not be able to place the blame upon him. If the Jötunn did their jobs correctly, then his father would not live to consider who led the Jötunn to Asgard. Hell, who could argue that the Jötunn did not simply find the passage on their own?<p>

His smile grew at his own handy work. It was a flawless plan. With Asgard out of the way, false-brother Thor and damn Heimdallr dead, and the Jötunn occupied, there was no one to stop him from accomplishing _anything_. There were no more limitations for him. Anything and everything was fair game, from conquering Midgard to possibly Yggdrasil itself! Loki grinned optimistically at the thought of being able to unite the World Tree underneath his rule; do what his father always wanted but never could! He could be Loki _Allfather_. _Could be_ ... His grin diminished because for the time being he was Loki _Nobody_. He narrowed his eyes at the thought. No, that wasn't right. He was not no nobody! He was _somebody_, but just unknown to this planet outside of SHIELD. That would not do. No, not at all. The citizens of this realm deserved to know who their future king would be in the coming days. The only obstacle to showing them would be if SHIELD covered up his schemes with some bullshit lie like they had been doing. He would have to make this a public event where there would be enough citizens that SHIELD could not sweep him under the rug as another government secret.

Loki felt giddy already from all the possibilities he had of how to reveal himself to the public. There were endless possibilities, but as much as part of him yearned to have just some innocent, clean, harmless mischief, like say, turning all the cars in New York City into ice cream, he had to make his first impression lasting. After all, he would be there king for the rest of his godly life. He was not about to spend the rest of his life being criticized for appearing to be a weak king, but the God could not appear tyrannical either or else he would never have the support and trust of the mortals. He would need to show them that he held all their best interests at heart. He scrunched his nose he thought over the solutions. Well, Loki was positive that he would have to make some more backwards deals to align Midgard with potential enemies so that they could be allies; secure peace for the realm. Then there would be the matter of promoting certain mortals to be liaisons, and perhaps even giving some a demi-god status where they could rule certain areas of this realm. Midgard was much larger than Asgard, and there would be no way Loki on his own could enforce his rule uniformly across the globe. So yes, promote a few to a demi-god status and let them enforce his rule for him. That would give himself more time to focus on more important matters. But who to choose?

The God did not associate enough with the mortals to know who would loyal to him but clever enough to stand above the rest of the mortals. He had no plans to rid himself of the servants Sigyn had found because those were his personal mortals for his own pleasure. Even Gods did not mix pleasure and business together. But the question remained who? And how to go about to find them?

Loki closed his eyes as the thought of Sigyn drifted into his head. He was confident she would be capable of finding worthy mortals. She had already shown her capabilities by choosing such excellent servants, especially Freda and her godly cooking. By all that was gold in Asgard was her cooking delicious. Just thinking about her cooking was making the God drool with desire for the explosive taste. So yes, Sigyn was very well qualified for finding superb humans to serve him. Now just how to go about to convince her to do so. He had the sinking feeling rolling around in his stomach that would be the most difficult obstacle standing between an easy and swift or difficult ascension to kinghood. In the back of his mind, the lingering presence of Njörðr was approving the idea because the plan would involve Sigyn and keeping tabs on her whereabouts. So in an indirect way, he would be honoring Njörðr's request at the same time. That would be a nice little by-product of his plan, and Loki grinned again at his cleverness. Even he surprised himself some times.

He walked briskly out of his room, impatient and eager to achieve the results. He felt this rush from within that would not be quieted until he had at least paved the foundation. The God stepped lightly and happily while enjoying the sharp click his cane made every time the bottom smacked the ground. He smiled at the quick, rhythmic beat; such a lovely sound it was. Loki was almost disappointed when his cane struck the soft grass instead of the harsh, unyielding metal, but the sight of the seeing the zebra graze on the grass was stunning. They were much more beautiful in person, shockingly so. Their black and white stripes were mesmerizing. The shifting illusion they created when the zebra moved was something to be appreciated. He looked to the fire pit, unsurprised to see the hunting pack and then some lazily enjoying the warmth. Fenris was among them, snoring loudly and madly twitching.

There was a new structure erected. The enclosed gazebo has glass walls framed with rustic materials. Inside he could see it was well furbished with a television, beige furniture, and decorations. Kevin was busily occupying it with the aid of Sybil as they busily played on the X-box. By how Kevin was behaving, he assumed Sybil was thoroughly kicking his ass at the game. Which she should have been given her age. He turned his head to the right and smiled pleasantly. Sigyn was atop one of the geldings riding bareback. The gelding's gait was smooth, and he appeared to take commands and execute them without much rebellion. She had smartly traded her dress for a pair of feminine bell bottoms and a white top with black lacy accents. She braided her hair into an elegant side french braid that displayed her strong jawline and smooth cheeks. From the ring on his finger, spread a sorrow directly for Njörðr that he could not see how beautiful Sigyn had turned out to be in the end.

"Sigyn," Loki beckoned. She turned her head and attention towards him, but he could not tell whether she was happy or angry with him. "I am surprised to see you are up and about?"

She strode up next to him and halted. "I spoke my goodbyes to Njörðr before I left Asgard," the Goddess confessed neutrally. "I knew quite well he was not well when I left."

"And you left anyway?"

"Frigga and he conspired to sway me to come to Midgard for the cause of Thor," Sigyn explained.

He hesitated a moment before testing the waters. Loki extended a hand to Sigyn. His skin prickled when she took his hand, but in a good way. "You mean protect Jane?" The God moved closer as he aided Sigyn off the pony-sized creature.

"Correct," she confirmed. Sigyn brushed passed him to gently remove the halter from the gelding's face. Loki followed her, placing a comforting hand on the zebra's thick, strong neck. He brushed his fingers through the mohawk mane, enjoying the feel of the coarse hairs. "On what business are you here?" Her voice wasn't curt, but she wasn't warm either. Expecting her to sound happy in his presence would be asking too much. But hearing her neutral voice was not demanding enough from the Fates.

The God contemplated for a moment whether to make up a lie on the spot, but if Sigyn found out, and she had a habit of doing so, then he might as well as kill himself to spare her the pleasure of killing him. "Matters of Midgard," Loki replied, not sugar coating his words. He thought using any charm would only enrage her. Which he could understand why, since he only used his charm to manipulate people and get the concubines into his bed. She was above that status. "I was mulling over how to go about effectively ruling Midgard. I concluded having an elite group of trusted mortals to enforce my law would be best. Of course, they would be liaisons so that the mortals felt as if they had a voice. As you have selected such a fine assortment of servants, I see no reasons why you ought not to be the one to choose those liaisons," Loki enlightened. "You are more adapted to Midgardian culture than myself. I believe you shall be more persuasive than me."

Sigyn chewed on her bottom lip as she thought. She let the gelding go trotting back to his herd to graze, and she took to heading to her swing. Loki kept pace with her, walking beside her. "Your words are flattering, Loki, and very true," the Goddess spoke smugly. "I shall do so because I shall not let you wreck this realm and tarnish my status as queen." She stared skeptically at the content, pleasant smile on his lips. "Why so pleased with yourself?"

"I thought perhaps you would not be participating anymore," Loki answered.

"I told you once that I chose Midgard over Asgard. Will I have to remind you every day of that?"

"No, once is enough," he answered through a sheepish grin. Sigyn sat on her swing, wrapping her fingers around the thick, grainy rope. Loki stood at attention and gave the gazebo a passing glance before returning his focus to her. "When shall you go about your duty then?"

Sigyn laughed. "You do not take a moment's rest," she criticized. "We have an eternity to conquer Midgard. I prefer to take my time and enjoy Midgard for her beauty." She leaned forward to see pass the tree and to Kevin throwing a fit. Loki could feel her head press slightly against his abdomen, and he backed away. "Kevin is much a sore—" Sigyn jumped out of her skin and gripped the rope as she was suddenly jerked backwards. She threw her head over her shoulders to glare at Loki.

He looked innocently at her. "You did want to swing, no? Was that not the point of coming to the swing?" Loki asked.

"Yes but—"

The god gave his cane a swing, and in turn, Sigyn was pushed forward by an invisible force. Loki moved so he was on the sidelines with a perfect view of watching Sigyn swing back and forth. He casually flicked his cane back and forth to keep her propelling. She did not protest to his delight. There was even a hint of a smile on her lips, but the silence he still could not quite stand. There was still an awkwardness and a lingering tension that left him at unease. "So Mother and he swayed you to Midgard for Jane? Why?" It was a genuine question with no hidden intentions ... or were there? It was not like he would be here had Njörðr not talked to him...

"Politics is complex," Sigyn said, breaking up his thoughts. "After Asgard settled down from the family feud—" Loki thought this an interesting choice of word for her to use. He narrowed his eyes and burrowed his brows together as he focused more intently on Sigyn. "Thor was—is obsessed with that mortal Jane Foster. He would not stop blabbering about the mortal. My poor ears began to bleed from how much her name was roared. I could not believe how Thor continued on with this _mortal_ like she were his equal." Sigyn was completely disgusted by Thor's behavior, and she made no effort to hide her vicious, condescending tone. "He had known her for only a few days! Uh!"

"Sounds much like the time he dared to flaunt Járnsaxa around the palace," Loki spoke disappointingly.

"Precisely!" she exclaimed. "I do not care for Járnsaxa, but this mortal Jane Foster is worse."

"_Worse_?" he asked skeptically. The God could not believe there could be someone worse than Járnsaxa.

"Yes," Sigyn answered unfortunately and with a roll of her eyes. She huffed at the whole affair. "Thor was spending his days more with Heimdallr than with Mjölnir. This aggravated Odin because tensions between them and the Jötunn were flirting with war. An argument ensued one day, in which I overheard Odin threatening to renounce Thor as crowned prince if he continued to slack his duties. Thor refused to have the crown taken away; which meant there would be only one solution to the problem—killing Jane Foster. Thor was unaware of this solution, and I was as well until Frigga came to me, begging me to deter Odin Allfather from slaying the mortal. She did not wish to see her son suffer anymore. As I knew how to go from Asgard to Midgard without Bifröst, she sought me out so I may go to Midgard and place Jane Foster under my protection because Odin would dare not go against my judgment to protect a creature, no matter how _un_worthy." The confusion was clear on Loki's face. "Thor is not the favored son," Sigyn added. This further confused Loki and perked his interest at the same time.

"Not the favored son?" he repeated for his own good.

She nodded. "Baldr is much favored these days. Odin regards him as if he were the crowned prince, and Frigga loves him as if he were the first born," the Goddess conveyed. "I do not quite understand this since Baldr is not the son of Odin and Frigga, but—" Sigyn sighed tiredly. "I feel as if Ragnarök is just around the river bend with all these strange happenings."

"Ragnarök merely means rule shall be returned to the first born race," Loki whispered in a husky, dangerous, commanding tone. He grinned sinisterly at his queen. "Do not worry. You shall be fated to survive Ragnarök."

"You sound like a braggart," Sigyn criticized.

"Braggart?" he questioned.

"I would have used the term bigmouth, but you never knew how to use your mouth," she added. Loki brought her to a stop. Sigyn eyed him, not angrily but cautiously. There was a small pull of her lips into a less-than-innocent smirk. "You always stuck your tongue in too far, made me choke."

He chuckled darkly as he moved around her in a circle, like a wolf purposely stalking the sheep in plain sight. "That was when I was young. I also did not have the pleasure of Freyja teaching me how to kiss before our wedding," Loki justified. He pounced and leaned dangerously over her back; his lips were just centimeters away from her ear lobe. The God could feel the heat of her body, a woman's body, beneath him. He was reminded with just how long it had been since he had took pleasure for himself. "I kiss much better now," he whispered darkly.

"So I have heard," Sigyn replied as she stood. "The concubines gossip when they are not in your bed. They are vicious in details."

"Jealous?" The word slipped before he could think.

She laughed at him. "Hardly because I know what lies underneath the clothes," the Goddess admitted. Loki grumbled at her not-so-subtle insult to his manhood. She grinned at his misery. "They are only concubines. You said yourself they were nothing that could not be put off for me?" Sigyn turned to face; the taunting grin on her face replaced with a very uncertain part of her mouth. Her eyes darkened, growing larger as she waited for his answer.

Loki was speechless for a moment at what she was asking. He was flattered, but a bit concerned why this came about now? Perhaps the news of Njörðr's health? That was quite the probably possibility. He was the only Asgardian Sigyn appeared to care for, and with him gone, she had no connections to Asgard. Then she was here on Midgard with only him as an equal. An-an-and—Loki went back to his old habit of licking his top lip—she was the only one like him on Midgard. And he did not particularly enjoy being on his own because being an outcast flat out sucked. Anyone who told him different had not spent centuries being criticized by Asgard simply because he did not measure up to their standards. And there was no standards with Sigyn. Well, to be fair, she did expect him to always have a reason for doing something; which was reasonable. But, just as Njörðr had pointed out, she was the only one in Asgard who had not judged him for the stitches. What more proof did he need?

"You are my queen," he answered frankly. She nodded, accepting but not enjoying his short answer. Loki glanced over his shoulder to see if the mortals were watching. Satisfied they were not, he moved till he was in front of Sigyn. The God placed either of his hands on her shoulders to focus her attention, her whole attention, on him. He wanted him to be the only thought in her head, the only living thing in the universe besides her for a moment. "I shall not treat you like Thor does Sif if that is your concern," he addressed. "I am not reckless. And..." He averted his eyes as he thought about his next words. "To have you actively on my side is an advantage I care not to lose," he phrased carefully.

"You mean to say we are stronger together?" Sigyn asked for clarity.

"Yes," he answered with a nod.

"Next time say so. I do not enjoy indirect answers to my questions," she requested calmly.

The Goddess motioned to move, but Loki held her firm in place. "I am sorry for Njörðr, Sigyn. I know he did mean something to you," he added. "And you ought to know he would prefer if you stayed beside me."

She laughed lightly, brushing away his hand from her left shoulder. "So I am to protect you?" she scoffed.

"I believe it was the other way around, Sigyn," Loki corrected.

The Goddess laughed loudly. "That is irony at its greatest!" she exclaimed.

Loki tightened his grip on her shoulder as she began to walk. He followed behind her, feeling as if he was the dog being led by the master. The feeling was one that he did not enjoy. "How is that ironic?" he inquired. "I am as capable as any Asgardian guard that had escorted you. I suggest you stop underestimating my abilities. Just because I am unorthodox in my tactics does not mean I am weak."

"I never claimed you were weak," Sigyn sharply reminded.

"Then why is me being a protector hilarious?"

She scrunched her lips together for a moment, and then looked over to him with both eyebrows raised. "It seems to be uncharacteristic of you."

"Uncharacteristic?" Loki asked, baffled. "How many times did Thor and I rush off to protect Asgard? Many." He dropped his hand from her shoulder to walk beside her as her equal. "Just about every action I have done has been for the safety of Asgard. The difference between Thor and I, is that I am much more humble and subtle when I do." He looked to her, slightly hurt that she had not seen the good in his actions. "I always have good intentions."

"Save for when you pull pranks," Sigyn teased.

"Those are good in nature to those who can see," he stated. She giggled to herself, causing him to smugly grin. His light eyes darted to her own pair of tender eyes. He could see the memories of his pranks in them, and Loki could not contain a good chuckle. "It has been some time since I had a bit of fun," he contemplated deviously.

"Do not do anything too serious to them," Sigyn warned. "I want them to be able to function."

"Whoever said I was going to a prank the mortals?"

She was not amused by his answer because she knew too well what happened to victim in his pranks. "How about instead of annoying me, you turn that poor bird back into a man," she suggested.

"If I do so, then what? I shall still be bored," Loki complained.

"I shall introduce you to Midgardian culture," the Goddess offered. "That way you may be informed on their customs should a tragedy befall me."

"Well, I cannot allow any tragedy to befall you, Sigyn, since you are the master of mortals," he replied. "Therefore, I have no choice but to be your protector." She groaned, rubbing her nose and eye in a swift, tired motion. "Take it as a compliment, Sigyn. I would not protect you if you were not of great value."

"Oh yes, being considered _better_ than a _mortal_ is a compliment," she complained sarcastically.

"Well, what compliment would you wish for then?" he asked.

"One that is honest and without any charm," Sigyn answered.

Loki smiled slyly at the challenge. "Then if I may?" She stopped, but said nothing. But he would seize the opportunity because at least she was not denying him a chance, and as an opportunist, he would take every chance he could. The god took her hand, keeping his eyes interlocked with hers. He thrived on the uncertainty in her eyes and loved that absolute control he possessed at the moment. That overwhelming delight flickered in his irises like lightening. Loki pressed her fingers to his warm lips as a formal expression of his appreciation for her trusting him with so much power. The hairs on the backside of Sigyn's neck raised. Her breath hitched in her throat. This was the closest she had been to him, like this, since she was a child. Gently he returned her hand to her side before regally folded his arms behind his back. "My queen," he whispered with an insignificantly small but totally, undoubtedly symbolic bow of his head to her. Loki briskly turned away and vanished into smoke, as if he had never been there. But his presence lingered and burned her cheeks bright, painful red.

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><p><strong> AN:** I really love the idea of Sigyn and Loki being two gossipers in private; kind've like that elderly couple who has nothing better to do but criticize what the neighbors do. With not much time left before I leave, I'm just gonna say that I hope you enjoyed the chapter! There will be a longer blog-thingy next chapter!


	19. Chapter 19

**Tearing God Asunder**

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><p><strong>AN:** ...

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><p>The next day was possibly the weirdest day he had had since the time he accidentally mutilated one of his father's prized foals so that it sprouted four additional limbs (by accident)! The day had begun normal enough with some quiet time in the morning for himself, followed by a long soak in the bath with sea salts and bubbles (and lots of 'em), and finally with breakfast by Freda laid out on his neatly made bed. Erik Selvig hovered over his own bowl filled with the very best bird seed Freda could find and gobbled down the meal. Loki had joined him, stroking the magpie while grinning with a mouth full of flaky, warm, homemade strawberry poptarts.<p>

Then the day quickly spun out of control. Freda and Erik Masterson began to argue louder than he and Sigyn did. About what they were bickering about he did not care, but Loki did care they were upsetting his study time for the Tesseract. He needed a quiet place to conduct his study over the strange object. It took his full concentration not to cause some cataclysmic event. So he went there and abruptly ended the argument by promptly casting Erik half-way across the globe, and demanding Freda bake enough cupcakes to feed an army; each of which he demanded be artistically decorated and uniquely different than any of the cupcakes. In fact, he wanted each cupcake to have its own unique design. A bit demanding, but at least Freda would have no time to complain.

Then there was the whole massacre of Fenris accidentally mauling one of stallions, and Kevin "freaking" out, as Sybil called it, from seeing something Loki considered natural. He undoubtedly angered Kevin with being so nonchalant about the whole situation. Sybil remained quiet, but he could see she was not thrilled with how the god had chosen to go about the situation. Loki did not see the harm in Kevin witnessing another animal eat another. Hell, by the time he was the boy's age, he was already gutting sheep, boar, and cow to hone his throwing knives skills. That was precisely what Loki was doing now after hours of dealing with more drama and chaos. He materialized the perfect, glimmering knife between his longer fingers and flung it mercilessly at the tree. The deep, thud the blade made as it sunk into the tree was delicious sound to his ears. By now the tree should have looked like a porcupine, but after every five or so knives, Loki flicked them away with his wrist before continuing his onslaught. Loki grumbled with the last knife slipped too soon from his hand and went flying high into the tree.

"You still do not know how to throw knives," Sigyn chided. Loki instinctively looked high up in the tree. He had forgotten about Sigyn today. It really wasn't that hard considering she kept to herself, and he had been too busy to concern himself with someone who could take care of themselves. She was about the only one who could take care of herself in this household. The branches creaked and the leaves rustled as Sigyn climbed out of her tree with his knife in her hand. She held it up to her unimpressed, annoyed face. "Any higher and you would have struck me in the heart."

He was silent as she swayed her hips on her way towards him. She wore a deep and soothing, teal peasant skirt that floated around her mid-calves. To his shock and delight, wore a matching bandeau top. His eyes skirted along her curves, savoring the image, while at the same ashamed she dared to show so much damn skin. She was a queen! Not some whore! Her silver collar necklace jingled a bit as the loose, dangling strands bumped into each other. He focused his eyes on her face, trying to ignore her whore couture... His eyes kept flickering down for glances. It was so very hard to ignore. "You ought to cover up," Loki said as he looked away.

"Why? We live on Midgard. I ought to dress to fit the people we shall rule," Sigyn replied confidently. "They have a great range of fashion to choose from to my delight. You ought to try a few bits of their clothing. You would not look so dated then."

"Dated?" he scoffed. Loki looked down at his casual, blocky Asgardian coat that went over his heavy leather and metal trousers and long-sleeved top. The green, black, and brown was off set with the glinting bits of silver. Sigyn pulled back part of his jacket and frowned at what she saw. She shook her head. "This is formal clothing for a king," the God added.

"If you were on Asgard," she pointed out hastily. She patted the jacket back in place before rearranging herself so she stood elegantly beside him. "But whatever, if you wish to silly, then so be it."

"That is all you have to say?" Loki inquired.

"No," she answered a bit too frankly. But to be honest, the God was grateful for a frank answer instead of another lie or sugar coated words. "You are poor at throwing knives. Worse than ever!" She raised the dagger and twirled it between her fingers. Loki's eyes followed the dagger as it silently left her hand to sink into the tree. He didn't—wouldn't admit that her throw was much better than any of his. Hers was so natural, so smooth, so perfect. Sigyn beamed brightly at him. "It is all in the wrist," she chirped. "You put too much shoulder into the effort." She took his hand—Loki was stunned by the action—and looked to him, waiting for him to conjure a dagger. Her impatient stare focused his attention back to the matter at hand. As soon as the dagger was positions correctly in his hands, Sigyn ran him through the motions. The dagger, thrown by him and guided by Sigyn, landed as flawlessly as her own dagger had. Her fingers lingered on his skin for longer than he thought they should have, but perhaps that was his own imagination working since Sigyn thought little of it.

"Where did you learn to throw knives?" he inquired.

"In my youth," she answered simply. Sigyn began to walk to the tree to pluck the daggers.

Loki waved the daggers away. She sighed, forced to turn around and face Loki with both daggers in hand. "Njörðr teach you?" he probed further; quite curious now to unravel more of her. The God wanted to know more about her, find out what other secrets she had that could be useful for him in the future. He dropped the daggers, letting them turn to dust as Sigyn stopped in front of him. Unable to stand the sight of her, he stripped himself of his coat and placed it upon her shoulders. "Are you going to answer me?"

"No," she spoke curtly.

"No, he did not teach you, or no to answering me?" Loki inquired slyly.

The Goddess brushed off his coat and let it fall ungracefully to the ground. She turned around to head back up to her tree and quiet place in the world. "No to the first," Sigyn growled.

Loki walked after her, irritated she was so quick to be done with him, and then furious she would dare turn her back to him. "So your father taught you?"

"If I told you yes, would you leave me alone?" she grumbled. He grabbed onto her wrist as she motioned to go up and jerked her towards him. Sigyn fought with him for possession of her wrists, but after a few moments, she knew he wasn't going to let go until he got what he wanted. But she surely wasn't going to look him in the eye. She rested her on a small patch of wildflowers glowing in the sunlight. The haze over her crisp eyes gave away that she was looking to the past, but the tears dripping over her cheek were from the present. "Yes," she croaked softly.

"Now was that hard?" Loki asked, somewhere between a tease and insult. Sigyn jerked harder against him; a new passion fueled her and lit up her eyes like glowsticks on Halloween. He had tighten his grip to the point he feared if Sigyn jerked harder, he might just be forced to snap her wrist in order to maintain his grip. "Why be anger with me? I am not the one who has killed your father. And as we speak, the reign of Odin has come to an end. The murderer of your father will be dead. All by my hands. Is that _not_ wonderful?"

"Is that suppose to make me feel better?" she spat.

"At the very least you ought to be thankful," the God answered. He took his finger and brushed aside the tears. "Odin cannot touch you, cannot do anything to you anymore. You are safe from here until Ragnarök and then after." Loki forcibly yanked her towards him and crushed her between his arm and chest. He heard her gasps for sweet oxygen. At least by starving her of air, her crying would be stopped before it evolved into something larger, more pathetic and weak. "The only person you have to fear is me," he whispered into her ear. "You should only have to ever fear me if you oppose me as your king." She quivered at his dark promise. He softly pressed his lips to the top of her head, but the motion not reassuring. Part of him enjoy the fact that is wasn't reassuring, while the other half cringed in horror and screamed in protest.

"Why should I not fear you?" Sigyn asked heatedly. She strained enough to looked up to him, close enough to bite his nose or lip. She was very tempted to bite off his lips and silence him permanently.

"Why do you even fear me? What have I done to make you fear me?" Loki hissed. "I have never wronged you, and I have no immediate plans to wrong you either."

"Because you shall cast me aside like you have done the rest of your family," the Goddess murmured. "Then I shall be left alone with every place to go but no place to call home. I shall be in the same position you were when you fell from Bifröst."

"Do you believe I am that evil?"

She looked up to him, meeting him eye-to-eye, and shook her head in denial. "No," Sigyn admitted. "But, I know your dark thoughts and feelings because they have been every day since my father was taken from me. I know where those thoughts might lead because many times at night when other sleep, I have plotted. Never acted, mind you, Loki, but plotted down to each moment and every detail. I know very well how hard those it is not to act on those temptations."

"And why have you resisted such temptations?" he pried.

"Once you let your temptations guide you, then morality means nothing," she warned. "We then only revolve around our self-interests. Holy beings like us cannot be so reckless. Our actions can destroy all that we know and love. We could bring around Ragnarök by accident and not know until Ragnarök is upon us."

"There is only one who can bring about Ragnarök, and that is myself," Loki asserted. "Which comes back to the fact that I have never wronged you. And to the question why you fear me." He ran his hand through her long, wavy hair with a placid smile smeared across his thin lips. "I have only ever done right by you, Sigyn. I may have not done right by anyone else, but I have done right by you, at least in my intentions. I pride myself a bit on that now."

"Now?" she asked bluntly.

The trickster smirked. "I know that Theoric has not done right by you; thus, I am much better than he—the one who represented a 'true' man," Loki boasted. "I am much more worthy than he to be your husband."

"Fine," she huffed. "Do you wish to know why I do not give into those temptations, even now? Because the last time I gave into my temptations was with Theoric. He burned and used me."

He was surely sick at the joy he felt when heard Sigyn's words. "Then why have you stayed with him all these years?" Loki interrogated. "And then why you have lied to me about him being your 'true' husband?"

"I have not," Sigyn defended. "Amora has been the one with him. She and he are in love. She calls him Skurge the Executioner and is his lover."

"Then where have you been, Sigyn?" he asked wearily.

"Hiding and waiting for Ragnarök," she responded. "And praying that I would have the strength to stop you when Ragnarök comes."

"To stop me!" Loki exclaimed.

"If Ragnarök comes about, then the Gods, _our_ Gods, win!" Sigyn informed.

"There are no other gods but _us_," he hushed. Loki gambled his finger when he pressed it to her lips. He was thankful she did not initially bite off his finger. He traced his finger over her jawline to tilt her chin up so her lips brushed against his. "Only you and I..." He pushed her back, giving back her freedom. Loki folded his arms behind his back as he stared down the long, grass-covered air strip. "Now answer the damn question: why do you fear me?"

"Sooner or later, all good things are taken from me," she admitted remorsefully. "I do not wish for you to suffer simply because I thought you were good."

"You believe..." The God turned around, quite unsure of whether to be happy, angry, or sad at what she said. All he felt was an odd combination of the three. "I am good?"

"If I did not believe so, I would not have chosen you over Asgard," Sigyn announced much to his surprise. "Though, that ought not be a surprise considering I chose you over Asgard long ago." He looked quizzically to her and moved forward, attracted to the mystery. She moved back a step for every step he took. He quickly realized this was a game of tug-o-war between them. So when she stepped forward, he stepped back, smiling. "See, right there. If I had not chosen you over Asgard, then you would not be able to smile without tears coming from your eyes."

"You talk of the stitches sewn into my mouth by the Svartálfar," he spoke for clarity's sake.

"Of course," Sigyn chimed. "I waited to see if you would choose me over Asgard, but I never received an answer."

Loki shifted suddenly, so Sigyn's back pressed against the tree's bark. She looked to the side and then annoyingly at Loki, for she could no longer take a step back for every step he took towards her. "An answer?" he questioned with a raise of his brow. "But if I recall, you were with Theoric then..." His voice sounded thoughtful, but there was that edge of curiosity and calculations that ran deep. "Were you not?"

"No," she answered flatly. His forehead crinkled at that one word like it did every time he was deep in thought, and his lips pursed at her, disappointed. His disappointment stung her like a paper cut across the palm. "Theoric and I were not a couple for long. I knew soon that he was in love with Amora. I had let Frigga trick me into letting her pose as me inside the palace. And I wished for you to know she was not me, and for me to know whether she had bewitched you. Of course, whether you would or would not choose me over Asgard—I needed to know whether what we had shared as children was lost to us. And so when you appeared one day before the court with the stitches, I saw an opportunity to find my answers..." She sighed, but looked at him with much sorrow. The Goddess appeared paler to him, like her broken heart had finally stopped working. "Well, we both know what I found that day."

Loki meekly nodded, recalling how he had been unable to keep the tears from flowing because he was not use to being silent. Even the taste of blood in his mouth he could remember. That was a different taste than previous times he tasted blood, something much more sour about this, more poisonous to his well-being. He knew that exact feeling when he saw Sigyn, not that wench Amora, walk into the court room; that sick feeling he got in his chest when she told him she would bare his burden wholly. "I did not realize what you did," Loki spoke. "Well, your reasons."

"What reason did you have?" she asked.

"That does not matter now," the God said curtly. He turned away, quite ready to drop the subject. At the same time, he felt a bit more of his feelings fossilize and give him another sharp edge. Sigyn strolled next to him. Her skirt ruffled as she struggled to keep pace with his wide struts. "You are here, beside me, as my loyal queen. That is all that truly matters now," Loki spoke. "And I am your king, bound to you through marriage, for better and for worse—"

"Till death do us part," Sigyn finished.

"And death shan't part us," he assured. "As the keeper of Ragnarök, I decide who dies and who does not die."

"And I am the Lady of Victory," she purred.

"We are a deadly combination," Loki said through a grin. Both he and Sigyn winced at the sudden sound of glass shattering. Not a second later, Kevin was shooting, as was Freda and Sybil. He pinched his nose with an overly dramatic, tired sigh. Sigyn giggled, having found all the yelling quiet amusing all day, but only because she was not part of the drama unfolding between the mortals.

"Come," Sigyn motioned, grabbing his hand. "Let the mortals work out their own politics. We have much more important business to attend to, Loki. And I am in need of your teleportation skills. You are in need of setting a prime example for King of Midgard. I mean not turning all the fish in Boston Harbor into singing flowers." Loki chuckled happily that she had read the news this morning, and was elated that she found his small prank amusing. She smiled at him with a little something extra hidden behind her innocent, pale pink lips. "You may thank me later by taking me out dancing, my king."

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><p><strong>AN: **So Loki and Sigyn are making progress. Slow progress, but progress nonetheless. I mean, at least Sigyn and he can converse without killing each other. Hell, she even tried to show him how to properly throw a knife. I tried to put a little bit of humor in the chapter like with Loki being totally uncomfortable with Sigyn wearing a top that exposes her abdomen and shoulders. Being a total hypocrite with liking how she looks and feeling like she's dressed like a whore. Oh, Loki, you are indeed the universe's biggest hypocrite. And yes, Loki did turn all the fish in Boston Harbor into singing flowers for the hell of it. I don't know how Agent Coulson is going to explain that one to the public...

And next chapter promises to be a good one. It's going to connect a lot of things in the marvel universe.

Lastly, I would just like to thank my loyal reviewers and readers. I know the story has been slow without a whole lot fluff, but I have been trying to stick to a more realistic approach to them going from an estranged couple to a functional couple. Because people typically when they are estranged don't just make up on the spot, especially after what they have gone through. Not many readers would stick with a story like this. So to my readers, thank you. I am grateful for your support and enthusiasm.

Have a wonderful Sunday! I will be back with another update later this week after my tests!


	20. Chapter 20

**Tearing God Asunder**

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><p><strong>AN:** So, if you have noticed, the rating for the story has changed. I did this because I received a concern about a character death being too graphic for "T." So to avoid any confusion, I changed the rating to "M" and the rating will remain "M." I would like to remind my readers that this story is by no means a fairy-tale. This is a gritty story filled with blood, violence, betrayal, death, sex, and love. Since the rating has official changed, I am going to milk it for all its worth! Muwahaha!

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><p>He loathed to admit but Sigyn had been right. Leave the mortals to settle their own politics while he eloped—the word sounded much better than running away because running away implied you were a coward—with her to Haasenstadt, Latveria. It was a small, third world country crammed between Hungary, Slovakia, and Romania. She continued to inform him about the country's politics. He amazed that this country was still under a monarchy, or as Sigyn had phrased it, a dictatorship. The United Nations had been pushing for years for the country to under go a revolution and become democratic, but, like more kings, King Vladimir Vassily Gonereo Tristian Mangegi Fortunov—he had scratched his head why mortals needed such long names that were meaningless—had refused to hand over his power to the people. Rightfully so, Loki thought. People in masses could not be trusted to make important decisions. The person they were after was a half-breed, out a Midgardian woman and Dökkálfar male. From what Sigyn had said, he was an intelligent man that he ought to take a liking to; which could only mean, Sigyn either hated the man or loved him. The God wasn't quite sure which yet. He was still too focused on what she had to say.<p>

"Vincent Vaughn was incredibly brilliant, and offered many scholarships overseas in America. He went over there and studied in the early 2000s. Then in 2007, after completing his undergraduate degree, he went back to native land because his visa had expired. Well, he applied for another visa, but was rejected by his own government. His government is very corrupted, Loki. His government, King Fortunov, feared that they would lose him if he went back to America. They wanted to keep him and use him to help construct their nuclear weapons program. Vincent Vaughn refused, and his mother and father were killed as a result. He then tried to plea political asylum in America, but he disappeared. His American fiancée Valeria and her grandfather Boris, who is also from Latveria, has tried to use American television media to save him. They have not made any progress because America does not wish to concern herself with matters overseas," Sigyn explained. "And without any money to bribe the government, Vincent Vaughn has remained there as a political prisoner until today."

"You bribed the government?" Loki inquired

"Yes," she answered. "Their monetary currency means nothing to us Gods. Paper is_ useless_. Now gold, that has true value." Sigyn stood up from her wooden chair to look out through the old glass window. She then looked up to marvel at the skilled paintings on the high ceiling and walls. They were reminiscent of Victorian style art and architecture. Loki too looked up to inspect the art. "If we eventually move out of our current residence, I would much like our ceilings to be decorated like these," Sigyn added.

"You may do as you wish to our future hall, Sigyn," he replied. "I request only a throne room and my own study in the gardens. The rest you may design as you please. Just keep it tasteful."

"I am always tasteful, Loki," Sigyn hissed. At least for now she was. That whole whorish clothing was done away with and replaced with flowing beige gown. Over it, she wore a poncho comprised of many prized, brown furs. She had her hair wrapped behind her, exposing her beautiful, soft yet strong face. "I dressed you, did I not?" She smiled at him, pleased to see him in a formal suit with a purple tie for royalty. She slicked his wild hair back so he didn't look like some wild child. But she didn't not scowl at him, but beamed at the bit freedom and trust he had endowed to her with his statement.

"You shall be wonderful in the spotlight."

She shook her head. "No, I do not wish to be in the spotlight, Loki," she informed.

"You are a queen, Sigyn," he reminded briskly. "You shall be in the spotlight."

"No, I do not need to be," the Goddess insisted. "I do not mind being behind you and doing tasks like these, but I do not want to be in the spotlight and be seen by the common mortals. The Cabal I shall have no problem with because they will be few and more trustworthy." Sigyn sat beside him with her hand on her lap like a dainty lady. "You shall respect my decision, Loki."

"If you so please, Sigyn. But you shall be required to find out how you shall go about business without being in the eyes of the mortals," Loki said. "And what is the Cabal?"

"The Cabal is the name given to those mortals worthy to serve directly under us."

"And how many others are there?" Loki inquired.

"At least five others," she clarified. "We have a week to assemble them."

"There are seven days in a week," he said dryly. "That would leave us with two extra days."

"I have plans for those days." Sigyn grinned, but Loki did not feel any better by her smile.

Down the hall, a petite brunette marched towards them in a formal business outfit and with a forced smile on her round face. The sound of her high heels echoed in the halls. "Mr. and Mrs. Walter Lawson, you may come with me. Vincent Vaughn is awaiting you now, along with our king." Loki stood first, then Sigyn. He held out his arm for Sigyn to take. He escorted her down the halls as they followed the secretary.

She led them to a wide, open room filled with an elegantly crafted, wooden table that stretched from one end to the other. Sitting in the far (tacky in Loki and Sigyn's opinions) chair with glittering jewels was a pudgy man that reminded the God of a humanized pig. The king was missing more than a few teeth. He was a tired, old king that clung to what he had inherited like a spoiled brat. "Close the door," he spat, and literally spat. Loki could see the spit fly out of his mouth. The door closed behind them.

Loki and Sigyn looked to the young man dressed in ill fit, mainly too baggy, clothes. He had dark circles beneath his lifeless grey eyes. The mortal's skin was an unhealthy shade of grey; it was a combination of heritage and abuse over the years. His was grizzly looking with his untrimmed facial hair and the rest of his classic dark hair in disarray. Vincent Vaughn looked at them with no real emotion to his face. He appeared empty and starved.

"Mr. Walter Lawson," King Fortunov slurred in a heavy accent similar to those from Slovakia. "I did not realize you were coming with company." His beady eyes slid over Sigyn, undressing her with his eyes. Beside Loki, he felt Sigyn's nails dig into him at the disrespect. He could feel how damn pissed she was. It was one thing for an Asgardian to look upon her like that, but a mortal! How dare he! How fucking dare he! She flipped her head to her husband, who could not keep the distain he felt for the mortal from his face. "I—"

"Enough," Loki grumbled with a flick of his hand. King Fortunov slumped over the table, his face being cushioned by the food setting on his plate. For the first time, an emotion graced Vincent's face. He looked startled and backed as far away as his seat would allow. "Filthy pig," he muttered. Sigyn released her death grip on Loki; much to his relief. "A quiet one he is. Are you sure he suitable, Sigyn?"

She nodded. "He is." The Goddess walked towards him. "Do not talk to him as if he is not here. That is rude, Loki," she criticized. Sigyn came up to him with a calm smile on her lips. "A pleasure to meet you Vincent Vaughn. I am Sigyn, Lady of Victory. My husband is Loki—" She used an arm to motion towards him. "The Breaker of Worlds. We have come with a proposition. You may choose to refuse and go free, or you may choose the option I am about to tell."

"Do you mean it when you say that if I refuse, I can go free?" Vincent asked grimly.

"Of course," Sigyn assured. "Though, I believe you shall like the option I have. For you see, my husband and I are not of this realm—world in your terminology. We are Gods from a place called Asgard, the realm eternal among the Norse Gods. We have come here to Midgard to instill peace and prosperity to this realm. However, since this realm is expansive, we are in need of some worthy mortals to serve us."

"You mean be slaves," he corrected.

"No, no," she argued softly. "Not slaves, trusted servants."

"Same thing," the half-mortal dismissed.

"No, not at all," Loki clarified in a crisp voice. He stepped forward, irritated by the mortal's ignorance. "We are forming a group called The Cabal. The Cabal shall be comprised of the brightest and most fit mortals to rule. They shall answer to no one but us. The Cabal shall be a privileged class of humans, demi-gods if you please. They shall enforce my rule and bring any concerns they have to me." The God sat across from the mortal, looking down upon him like he was stupid for not accepting. "My wife believes you are qualified to rule over a section of this realm."

"If you are Gods, then why do you need mortals to enforce your rule?" he questioned.

"So I may focus my attention on otherworldly concerns," the trickster answered. "There are many other realms that would seek to destroy this realm. The politics among the realms is delicate at the moment."

"Why now?" Vincent probed.

"The Fates have told me that it is my destiny to rule this kingless realm," Loki said. "You have a saying along the lines: the right time and the right place?"

"You shall have to excuse him, he is not the most cultured on Midgardians," Sigyn excused. She looked flatly to him, ready to shut him up before he insulted Vincent. She gazed down at the mortal, not quite as warm as before but definitely not rude.

"You know we already exist, Vincent. Your father was not mortal, and neither are you," Loki continued. "So you may choose to live another filthy mortal like this pig." He waved towards the still sleeping king. "Or you may seize the opportunity to rise above this filth and be something greater like your father."

"Do not talk about my father in such a tone," Vincent threatened. He bristled and leaned forward to meet Loki. "I am not intimidated by you or your kind."

"Good," Sigyn chirped. "Then I am not the only one. I rather like you, Vincent." She grinned at Loki, quite happy at the surprise. Loki huffed. "Come now, Loki, do not pout simply because he has a bit of a backbone." The Goddess placed her hand on Vincent's shoulder, trying to coax him onto her side. "A backbone would be a marvelous quality to have given we know his values would not be able to be corrupted."

Loki smirked, seeing an opportunity growing before him. "Think about it Vincent Vaughn, you would be able to prevent government corruption," he purred. Vincent flicked his interested eyes towards him. Oh, how Loki loved to strike a cord and ignite the passion within someone. "Imagine a world where there would be people who could not be corrupted. You could spare how many others who have been in a position like yourself. Valeria would never have to worry about you. The two of you could finally marry and live that happily forever after story book ending." The mortal stared him down, searching for any loopholes in his words that could potentially land him back where he had been for the last several years, but from the fire in his eyes, Loki knew that all the mortal could focus on was that happy outcome he had been waiting for years. "Vincent Vaughn, would you throw away the chance to secure a long and prosperous life with Valeria?"

"No," he answered bluntly, slightly insulted.

"Then welcome to The Cabal," he welcomed through his famous grin. The God stood, poking the king. Vincent jumped, watching as King Fortunov shrunk inside his own clothes. The clothes prevented Vincent from seeing what was happening, but he could hear a piglet squealing his lungs out. The small animal flailed on the floor, unable to find a firm grip with its hooves on the slick, marble flooring. The mortal watched in horror and amusement as the piglet crashed into the chairs and struggled to remain upright. Loki's face had become steel-like and unreadable. Sigyn tensed, loathing when Loki shut out the world.

But Vincent was up on his feet in a jiffy. The Goddess moved out of the mortal's way, seeing that blood lust in his eyes. The mortal went over to the squealing piglet, with a harsh, violent kick to the abdomen, he, the mortal laughed. How sweet did the sound of his king, reduced to a piglet, sound to his ears. Kick after kick, the piglet squealed. The blood trickled down the animal's forehead, ungracefully staining its pink, fuzzy skin and leaving an awful mess on the floor. Part of the skull poked through the skin like a barb, and the jaw of the animal shattered with numerous nauseating snaps from another blow from Vincent. Loki watched with a cold look to his face as the half-mortal kept beating on the piglet. He was studying Vincent intently, analyzing his every move. Sigyn knew too well that Loki had no plans to treat the mortal as anything but a work animal. If she had to guess, Loki was trying to conjure a plan on how to manipulate Vincent to get the most use out of him as he possibly could.

The half-mortal stopped, panting. He glowered at the piglet as the animal wheezed and struggled to breath through its broken mouth and disfigured face. Sigyn could not tell by the face that the poor creature had even been a piglet, more like a monster out of a troll and bloody snot ball. The tongue was laying limply to the side of its mouth, bloodied and pale. The legs were twisted in unnatural and painful ways with bits of bone protruding here and there. Vincet gave the piglet one more kick, but not enough to end its life. He muttered a curse in his native tongue before turning to the two gods. The half-mortal's lower half was coated in blood stains, giving him a primitive look. In his eyes, there was something that had broken, had shattered. Sigyn looked to Loki who grinned. She knew that whatever had broken inside the man, Loki had wanted to break. She did not particularly feel any reassurance in the half-mortal's eyes.

"Satisfied?" the God asked. "There is more of that to come if you join The Cabal."

"No," Vincent answered. He stepped forward, holding out his hand to Loki. The trickster looked curiously at the action, but instead of taking his hand and shacking Vincent's, he wrapped his arm around Sigyn's like a proper escort would. The half-mortal soon realized that he was not worthy, in the God's eyes, to shake his hands. "So what next, Breaker of Worlds?" he inquired.

Loki looked to Sigyn. "Yes, where to next, Sigyn?" he inquired.

"I—" She felt so very caught off guard at the sudden shift in attention. "I had reservations made at The Surrey in New York City for _us_, but I assumed Vincent Vaughn would have wished to return to Valeria and Boris. Would you not?"

His smile was cracked, torn between screaming for joy and crying from happiness. Vincent went paler than he already was, Sigyn could see his legs shacking as he finally realized he was going home. The tears came down his face as the feeling of his torment being over dawned on him. Vincent didn't dare ask if this was a dream because even if it were, he didn't want to know. Finally, the half-mortal managed a nod. "That would be wonderful," he mumbled.

Sigyn reached out to grab his hand. "Loki, if you please, take him please to—"

"I know where he needs to go," The God injected. "I can see it in his mind." Loki wasted no time between the end of his sentence and teleporting the three of them to a small, historically rundown but still quaint house between the slums of Chicago and the historic district. The yard was small and could be mowed in less than five minutes. As soon as Vincent let go of her hand, he was off again, changing the world around them into smoke. Then the whole world condensed into solid forms and bustling streets filled with mortals for them to rule. Because the streets were so bustling, no one really heeded them any attention when they just appeared out of no where. Loki pushed them aside as he led Sigyn through the elegant glass doors, and then quickly the power shifted. She handled the transactions at the front desk and everything else while he looked around at the modern, inner-city inspired art. Well, until Sigyn had him by the wrist and leading up to their accommodations.

Sigyn closed the door behind Loki, shutting anyone else but them out. He looked around at the large Penthouse Suite. He felt better already that at least for tonight, he would not be sleeping with metals walls. The vast windows gave him a detailed look over the city and filtered in the early morning sunlight. The stark contrast between the dark furniture and floors and the bright walls made the sunlight crisp. This place was a small house, complete with a kitchen and dining room. He glanced towards the bed room, and then curiously back to Sigyn. "There is only one bed," he stated.

"Do not remind me," she replied. "I would have preferred two separate rooms but ..."

"Why did you not?" Loki inquired, following her out to the private terrace.

"I thought it might be suspicious to anyone that may or may not be following us if two people who are suppose to be a couple have separate rooms," Sigyn answered. She leaned over the railing, grinning at the city below.

"I can take care of any who might follow us," he reminded.

"Yes, but if you kill everyone who you think is onto us, then the mortals shall become suspicious and not trust you as our king," she enlightened.

He came beside her to overlook the marvelous view. The busy, nosy world that belonged to the mortals seemed so far below him, both literally and metaphorically. There was a lot to admire that they had done in their short existence. In little over a thousand years, they had gone from wooden shacks to concrete marvels and all without the aid of magic. He could imagine how far they could go with him leading and sharing knowledge with them to transform Midgard forever. Perhaps not flying cars like the mortals imagined, but nonetheless, Midgard would be much grander. Loki looked to Sigyn and chuckled. "You act as if you know so much about being king," he said, half mocking and half asking.

"I have met quite a few kings in my day," Sigyn responded frankly.

"And how to I compare to them?" the God asked. "Do I live up to your standards?"

"Why do you care so much about standards?" she inquired back. "As far as I can remember, you have never been one to follow standards or rules. I always thought that was a good characteristic, and a nice breath of a fresh air for Asgard. You were an intellectual oddity, Loki. There are many intellectuals and philosophers in Asgard, many of whom are brilliant, but you stood out even among them. You stood out completely from Asgard as someone very distinct..." Sigyn sighed, turning around so she looked inside the penthouse. "My father would have approved of you," she softly spoke from the heart. Sigyn smiled at Loki, trying to focus on the happy and not the sadness. He could see that struggle in her eyes. "I believe you would have liked him, and he you, Loki. He enjoyed games based on wit. He would have me play witty games every night, and he would viciously beat me at them." She looked down at the ground, sucking on her bottom lip as she did when words failed her.

"That is unusual for a lady," Loki commented to fill the silence.

"I know. I felt like the only lone ebon' sheep in Asgard for it until I met the other ebon' sheep, you. And then I realized you never shut up," she laughed. "Always chatty like the birds when you were younger."

"And you never spoke two words," he defended in a light tone.

"Because I could never squeak in two words," Sigyn complained playfully. "Come to think about it, maybe it was wise I could never squeak in two words. You spoke enough for two people. Not that that was always bad, but as a small girl, you were quite intimidating. I never knew quite what to make of you."

"You believe you know what to make of me now?" Loki asked.

"A little bit, but not enough for my own satisfaction," she answered. The Goddess tiptoed slowly towards him, and he looked over his shoulder at her, not letting her out of his sight. "I know more than anyone else I believe. That may be my own pride speaking or the truth, but I do not know which. But I do know that Asgard changed you; you are not the boy I married." Her arms folded around him. Loki became stiff from the sudden contact and dared not to move. Sigyn rested her head against his back, placing her ear right above where his heart was. He was sure she could hear his heart nervously racing. "You should know I miss him." She pressed her lips to the fabric as she gave his heart a kiss. Sigyn gave him one last squeeze, like it was the last hug she would ever give, before releasing Loki.

He turned around to watch Sigyn heading back inside the Penthouse. "Sigyn?"

"I am off to purchase some items," she answered as if what she just did to him never happened. Loki felt unsure if he had done bad by not responding back to her. He damn well knew that he had not done any good by just standing there. "You ought to go to the Presidential Suite. Norman Osborn is there. I request you treat him well. He is not the most heart-warm mortal. He shall respond better to you than me. You may find a change of clothes in the wardrobe in the bedroom."

"Why the rush, Sigyn?" Loki asked as he followed after her. "We are ahead of schedule by a near full day and with two days to spare already." He waved his hand to shut the door to the terrace behind him.

"I assumed you would like to be as efficient as possible," she said; which, as he came to think about it, was taking into account he did like to be efficient and quick about business. She was being considerate really of his preferences, considering she had told him already she preferred to take it nice and easy. "Or do I know less about you than I thought?"

"I am the one who is starting to wonder who you are," he confirmed. His eyes flicked down to her feet, well, shoes. At least it was something else to distract him. "You have been in shoes for several hours. I am surprised you are not complaining."

"Oh, I am," Sigyn assured. "I have kept them inside my pretty, little head. I feel as if someone has suffocated my toes."

"Well, then I suggest instead of being a masochist and shopping in shoes, you head to the whatever they called it place with the stones and healing waters," Loki suggested. He looked out the window at the cars crowding the streets. "I hear there is quite a commotion outside this place." The God swatted his hand at the shades, but the ripple effect was down below. He found it hard to keep a straight face when his lips twitched and yearned to grin, especially as the mortals began to scream. Their nosy cars had frozen into ice cream and watching those inside the cars now crawling out of the ice cream was much more amusing than he had originally thought. Especially when mothers were having a hard time keeping their children from diving head first into the giant lumps of icy sweetness.

"Firstly, the place is called a spa, Loki. Secondly," she addressed, "I shall need you to come with me since I do not have an appointment. You are very persuasive. I believe you might be able to sway them. And thirdly—" Sigyn removed her poncho and placed it on the couch. Then she slipped off her shoes. A visible sigh of relief washed over her form. "If I am going to the spa for my feet, then you are coming for your shoulder."

"If you _need_ me that badly to persuade them," Loki sighed dramatically for effect.

She smiled full-heartedly at his response. Even her eyes seemed to smile; something he hadn't seen since Odin knew when. "Then change out of that garb," she chimed merrily.

He did as he was told, changing into much more casual and lax clothing than he liked, but nonetheless, he wasn't alone because Sigyn was in the same lax clothing. While everyone else in the hotel panicked, Loki followed Sigyn down to the so-called spa. With a teaspoon of magic and his silver-tongue, he was lying face down on a cushioned table while a mortal worked to get the so-called "kinks" out of his back. Lying there in that twilight realm between sleeping and being fully awake, he couldn't help but think he could get use to this kind of treatment on a daily—oooh! He made a low moan as the mortal hit a particularly tense muscle, but the discomfort was pleasurable. The God breathed out slowly, falling back into that twilight state where his mind was silence, blank, and at peace for the first time in a long time. It was such a nice change of pace from having to fill every void with finely crafted words. And for the first time, he didn't mind the silence between he and Sigyn. No, not mind; he quite enjoyed the silence he shared with her.

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><p><strong> AN:** For those who are unfamiliar with Vincent Vaughn, he is more commonly known as Dr. von Doom. He is originally from a fake country called Latveria or whatever the hell it is. As Marvel is going through and reinventing their old comic heroes and villians to make them more modern, I took _a lot_ of artistic liberty in updating Dr. von Doom. So yeah, he was a political prisoner by his own country for the better part of four/five years (story takes place in 2012 ish). And so, he is younger, about 26/28 years of age. I imagine him being something like Garrett Hedlund-ish. I really want a fresh face for Dr. von Doom. Already, Loki is manipulating von Doom to become well, a villian. Though, I don't really blame Doom for killing his king-who Loki turned into a pig-given all the shit he has gone through the pass couple of years.

Last but not least, why is it that Loki/Sigyn has yet to have a ship name? I mean Thor/Loki is Thorki, and Loki/Darcy is Larcy... Loki/Sigyn needs a shipname. I have no idea what the name would be... Any ideas?


	21. Chapter 21

**Tearing God Asunder**

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><p><strong>AN:** As a fair warning, I'm sick and have been cuddling with my box of kleenex on the couch for most of the day. I'm at the point where I don't give a damn about typos ... so yeah... This chapter is probably littered with them, lol.

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><p>After spending far too long in the spa, but nonetheless enjoyable, the two had dragged themselves back into the suite. They had not said a word to each other, just going with the flow. That seemed to be the mood between them, considering how Sigyn just lazed around on the couch, just as much as Loki did. On the table before either of them were the empty Chinese boxes with no food left in them; courtesy of Sigyn ordering Chinese take out for five people plus appetizers and desserts. Granted, it was good because the food was tasty and the food came to him. The only problem had been trying to master the chop sticks (which he never quite got a hang of but that was okay since Sigyn never got a hold of them either).<p>

With a sigh, he and Sigyn contently watched the news with amusement. The top story, not to his or her surprise, was how a street of New York City cars became giants lumps of ice cream. Watching how the government fumbled badly with a cover story for this miracle was laughable. Sigyn was laughing while he just deviously grinned. He felt her eyes slid to him and was followed by a rambunctious laugh. "What is so amusing?" Loki asked.

"You." She ran her hand through her hair, brushing it out of her face and behind her ear. "You were always a good entertainer; even if your performances and jokes came at the cost of another. I never quite understood why people thought you were quiet when you were quite the riot at the feasts."

"I still was, but you never attended them to see," he scolded. "Instead I had to put up with Amora being _you_."

The Goddess chuckled. "I had other places to be, people to attend, and minding my own business," she gave. "But, if you feel so disappointed that I never got to see them, you may always put on a performance here." She motioned to the table, but she kept her eyes firmly planted on him. "After all, magic was originally developed to entertain, no? Was that not how magicians originally dueled? By seeing who could create the most interesting of spectacles?"

He pushed himself to a standing position. "Indeed, your knowledge on the origins of magic are correct, Sigyn," Loki admitted. "The best magicians were said to be those who looked as if they were not actually performing magic. Instead of using complex gestures, they wanted to use small, common gestures so people would not suspect them; similar to how the best ventriloquist do not move their mouth at all." The God brought his hands together, all the empty boxes compressed together into a tiny, light gray sphere. He left it hovering above the table. With a sigh, all the electronics turned off. The only light that came into the room was from the setting sun and the tiny fire spreading around the sphere. "Of course—" Loki coughed into his hand. He attempted to clear his throat, but he only coughed more violently.

"Swallow wrong, Loki?" Sigyn asked lightly.

But he continued to cough until he was gasping for air. He gave another violent cough. She saw something—she wasn't quite sure what—hit the palm of his hand that was held to his mouth. The coughing ceased, met now with a gagging sound. She stared wide-eyed as he pulled a long, green stem out of his mouth. Finally a blue rose top came out of his mouth. Loki hit his chest with his free hand, clearing his throat. "So that is where I left that," he mused with a grin. The God passed it to Sigyn's eager hands. "Hold it for me? I do not wish to accidentally misplace it again." Sigyn giggled and nodded before giving him a small applause. He gave a small, egotistical bow. "Magic is all about being subtle and sly and unpredictable."

"I believe you have that bit mastered," she complimented.

"Oh, you have not seen a thing," he boasted. Sigyn nestled comfortably on the couch, holding her rose tightly against her chest. She rested her head in that nook between the back and arm rest of the couch and folded her legs across the couch. Oh yes, she was settling in for the long run. Loki simply watched her, and she watched him back. He never thought after all that had transpired since the death of their second son, he would ever see Sigyn like she was now, relaxed and lazy; just the opposite of how poised and collected she used to be around him. He smiled. Just like ol' times when they were children... "But did you know, the original form of magic was song?" Loki inquired. "Fair maidens used to sing soft lullabies to seduce a man to marry her."

"Perhaps among Asgardians, but among the Van, women would sing out to the night to call forth the sailors they loved," Sigyn commented. "By accident should a man be nearby, they were then accidentally seduced. The seduced man would then come to love that woman and ask her father if he could marry her. The Van, being merchant people, would agree because they wanted to see their daughters married off to other merchants, farmers, and warriors. So the Van women would then be married to men who they accidentally seduced. So, they say all Van women are heart-broken. But when their sailors return, the women are no longer heart-broken. They would sneak out at night to be with their sailors. This was such a common occurrence that the Van eventually accepted and embraced open marriages."

She began with a soft hum that slowly grew into soft song that he recognized as the old shanty Njörðr would sing. From the small flame burning emerged shapes that grew and spread across the table. There was fine layer of glowing, dark orange dust that shifted like the ocean. Sigyn paused, looking up from the fiery illusion to Loki; she looked quite eager to see what was to come next. But to her disappointment—she let out a small groan—he did nothing. She questioned him with her eyes, and he looked questioningly back at her. "Well?" he asked. "Are you or are you not going to sing?"

"Sing?" she asked. "I shall not. I would hate to seduce you."

"I believe you did that already, Sigyn," Loki responded thoughtfully. "You got me to marry you."

"That was your choice."

"Was it?" he asked seriously. "I recall wandering into the gardens after hearing the soft singing from a young girl—a girl I could not believe was the glum Sigyn. Then who after would sing me to sleep in the afternoons every time Mother brought me to the hall of Njörðr." Loki smiled fondly at the memories of his head in the young girl's lap; the feeling of her hands running through his hair was calming, much more so than his Mother's strokes. The God flicked his eyes open—he did not know he had even closed them until Sigyn placed both of her hands on his chest. Loki brought his hands up to grasp her arms and gently ran his thumb over her soft skin. "See? You seduced me long ago with your songs," he teased.

"Then I must apologize," Sigyn said remorsefully. "I never meant to steal your heart. You should know, that just because I stole your heart does not mean your heart cannot love another. You may still fancy yourself Amora."

"_Amora_?" he questioned, mocking her judgment. "She is a wench, a concubine, and a commoner like Sif, Sigyn." He shook his head. "How could you even begin to believe I would settle for her?"

"She is like you," she spoke. "Talented in magic, deviously manipulative, and has a silver tongue."

"Bah," Loki dismissed. "You insult me by comparing me to that wench."

"Well, then," Sigyn mused. "Who would your settle for in your life, Loki? For it would appear there have been women who would have had you like Karnilla, Angrboða, and Glut."

He pried himself away from Sigyn to flop onto the couch. The God sighed, pinching his nose with great effort. "I never bedded any of them," he informed hastily. So quickly, that she had to ask him what he had said. His eyes rested on Sigyn, watching as moved to sit on the floor in front of the couch; her face was just inches away from his, and he could feel the heat of her breath. Loki rolled onto his side and his arm to prop up his head. "I never bedded any of those women or any other women you might have heard of, Sigyn."

"You lied?" Then she realized after she spoken who she was talking to, the Liesmith. It was laughable, and she would have laughed if his gaze didn't so heavily on her form. Her mouth was part, and he could see the words forming on her tongue, but she did not speak, not immediately. She bowed her head slightly as she thought. Sigyn looked up to him after a moment, looking more confused than ever. Her lips were sternly strung into a thin line. "I do not understand," she mumbled.

"You did not want me for a husband... So I wanted to spite you," Loki said curtly. "And I needed to show the rest of Asgard I was not a force to be tempted. I wanted the men to fear their wives might be seduced by me. I wanted Theoric to fear that I would be able to seduce you if I ever pleased and woe you back to me."

"For as brilliant as you are, Loki, you are nonetheless stupid," she said gently, not meaning to insult him _too_ much. He frowned and furrowed his brows together. "You let your heart get the best of you, and look what happened, you tarnished your name," she chided. "And all for what? To have them fear you? You truly do cause your own problems." He frowned at her words and looked away from her form, unable to stand her truth. "If you want to be the equal to you brother—"

"I care not to be the equal to Thor anymore!" Loki lashed. "I shan't be compared to him or any of them!" He sat up and ruthlessly reached for her jaw with his cruel, cold hands. "They are _meaningless_ to me."

"And I would be too if I were not married to you," Sigyn spat. "Ou can no deneh 'ha." She slipped out of his grip, storming away from him. But she did not get far before Loki reappeared before her. His duplicates appeared around her, cornering her like prey. Sigyn twirled around but watched as his duplicates filled the entire room; each of them had the same piercing gaze that drove thousands of daggers into her skin. Her skin prickled as Loki, the real Loki, stepped inside the small circle. "Why are you acting this way?" she asked harshly. "Why continue to pester me? I am serving beside you as queen, offering my services. Is that not what you wanted?"

His face was as cold as steel, just like his hands. The fear slithered up her spine. That fear of the unknown dusted her body. "What is it that you are implying, Sigyn?" Loki inquired.

She could not tell what he was thinking, and his voice left no indications of his feelings. His voice was absent of any emotion, lifeless and bottomless. She took in a deep breath, trying to fill her lungs with courage. She bristled and shifted into a poised, cold position. "Then let me make clear that this thing between us is nothing more than a continuation of our marriage. Our marriage was nothing more than a political partnership for each of us to get what we wanted. I shall help you rule Midgard properly by advising you where to put your trust. In return, I will have my say in how I want certain things in Midgard to be, and I shall listen to Huginn when he tells me Asgard criticizes me for being a dutiful wife instead of a neglectful wife."

"So I am nothing more than partner in a mutual agreement?" he asked.

"Yes," she affirmed.

The God took her hand and raised it to his lips. "That is all," he muttered against her fingers. He turned his back to her and waved away the many illusions of himself. Save for his reflection he saw in the mirror across the room. Loki looked at his features, the sharp jawline, high cheek bones, and sunken eyes glowed with his intelligence. All of it was set against skin as far as Snow White's and hair as dark as the Evil Queen's. He studied farther, trying to find what it was that made him an ugly troll in Asgard, but he could not find a single flaw on his face. At least to himself, Loki found himself handsome, incredibly so. The sharp sound of Sigyn shrieking his name jerked his head over his shoulder to glower at her.

"What in the name of Hel is wrong with you?" she asked skeptically. "Ever since you returned from your little trip to Jötunheimr, you have been acting weirdly." She marched towards him. "Why?"

He looked in the mirror, watching as she scrunched her nose and wrinkled her forehead. Her lips twitched, threatening to turn into a snarl. He could see that tiny vein in her temple throbbing with anger. "Njörðr is wrong," Loki spoke neutrally; not really surprised to be disappointed. It wasn't the first time... He turned around with a placid smile that anything but reassuring. "That is all you need to know." Loki stared down at her. "Write down the names of the humans and where to find them, Sigyn.

She walked towards the table and scratched down the names and their addresses. When she next looked up, Loki was there with his staff in hand. He looked grimly to her before taking the note pad. "Loki?" the Goddess questioned. He moved closer and placed Njörðr's ring on the table. Sigyn scrambled to claim it, but as soon as she took it, her heart skipped a beat. And then another. And another! She opened her hand. All the veins in her hand pushed against her skin, pulsating with dark ooze. Her knees buckled beneath her, and she lunged out to grasp at the table, at the chairs, at Loki, at any goddamn thing to get her fingers around. But her left hand wouldn't respond; it was paralyzed from the ring. With her other hand, she grasped onto Loki's leg and dug her nails into his skin as she slumped to the ground. The blood trickled down his legs and onto her hand. "Loki," she gasped with what little breath she had inside of her.

He tilted his head to the side, studying the fear creeping inside and slowly killing her. Slowly, beyond his control, a malicious, murderous smirk pranced onto his lips. With each heart beat she skipped, his beat faster, racing, taking in her life. Loki bent down to cradle her head, wanting to feel her breath stutter and quake. The black poison dribble onto her face, prompting up her veins and tarnishing her eyes till they were yellow. "I told you, I would never divorce you, Sigyn. We are indeed stronger together," he told, wanting her to hear the truth. "And I shan't but..." He anxiously licked his lips. "As much as I trust you to uphold your word, I fear you shall be the one to abandon this grand scheme and turn the tables against me. I cannot take that risk." The God sighed. "I cannot simply kill you because death would part our threads. But I cannot have you alive, not like this.

"That was a bit of a problem, you see, Sigyn. If you had stayed in Asgard while I led the Frost Giants there, then there would have been too great of a risk that you would die. Thus, our threads would have parted. But to my luck, you were here on Midgard by some miracle. So I should thank you," Loki added with a sick grin. "With you here, then I could lead the Frost Giants into Asgard without worry you might die." He sat down on the floor and shifted Sigyn's head so it rested on his thigh. Loki gave a applause for her. "So you are therefore responsible for the fall of Asgard, Sigyn. If you had stayed, I might never have invaded Asgard. And of course, I could not leave you alone on Midgard. I know dragging this whole thing out between you and me is inefficient, but how could I resist toying with you as you toyed with me?" His voice was sinister purr that stole her precious breath. From the corners of her eyes dripped the tears he had waited so long to see. Sigyn's heart broke in front of his eyes; he could see the shattered pieces in her eyes. He could relate so well to how frustrated felt on the inside, unable to express the pain and betrayal. His grin grew so that it spread from ear-to-ear. Loki pressed his grinning lips to her hand. "Do not worry, Sigyn. You shall be safe and happy in the new world order. _I promise_." He closed her eyes for her, leaving her without a shred of light to her world. But it had to be done, so she would not see him lower his head in defeat and anguish.

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><p><strong>AN: **Good job Loki in maintaining your deceptive, self-centered self! Though, I am very much grateful for this twist! I wasn't expecting it, but I did enjoy it. I hope you do as well. :) Now just gotta wait and see what happens next!


	22. Chapter 22

**Tearing God Asunder**

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><p>Thor followed behind Víðarr, letting the Jötunn break the trail for him in the waist deep snow. They had sluggishly marched long enough for most of his hair to freeze into clumps of icicles. Thor was beyond feeling his nose or his limbs now; which showed in his clumsy steps and slow pace. His armor which had protected him was now a hindrance and restricted his movements. The God was beginning to realize why the Jötunn wore so little clothing. The ice was beginning to persuade him to take off his own clothing. Víðarr stopped in front of him, and Thor came beside him to overlook the gaping crack in Jötunheimr. The gold metal had frozen over in thick layers of ice and snow. The gleaming observatory was reduced to a crinkled wreck that he barely recognized. His throat closed on its own accord. He could not swallow the hard lump or accept the fact that his brother was lost to him. How could Loki be lost to him when Thor never let go? Loki may have let go of Thor and the rest of him, but Thor had never let go. He could never let go. Loki was his brother, his favorite brother—his only brother as far as he was concerned. He would never let go of Loki. It went against his very being, and if the only damn thing Thor ever did right in his life, it was staying true to himself and his values.<p>

It was the muttering from Víðarr that tore Thor's eyes away. His head was bowed to his chest while he kept his eyes closed, fixated on his prayer. He let out a cold sigh before picking up the pace again. He did not look back to see if Thor the rocks and ice. Thor stared down at his bloodied hands, watching as the blood trails frozen within seconds. The sharp sounds of rocks tumbling followed. The God found this grateful and annoying. The Jötunn must have thought him strong enough to keep up and trust him enough to show his back to a sworn enemy, but at the same time, he had to know Thor was struggling to keep up with his great strides. Thor was not like him; he was not built for such a rugged and unforgiving terrain. The descent down was not any easier. His feet were slipping on the rocks tumbling down with them kept catching Thor off guard and causing him to stumble more. They had so far managed to stay out of view of other Jötunn and avoid the rogue animals that haunted the mountain side. Thor had expected a bloody and glories adventure to the Casket of Ancient Winters. Alas, he was let down, but possibly grateful?

Thor had never felt this vulnerable since his time on Midgard, but at least on Midgard he had a chance at living a somewhat normal and decent life. Here, there was no chance. If any Jötunn saw him, well, he was finished. Not alive. _Dead_. While there was honor in death, there was also the fact that if he died, then his brother would be alone in the universe. Thor could not let that happen. Loki was his younger brother, and it was—is his duty to protect his younger brother. Because no matter what his brother did, he was—is still his brother. Thor would never forget what his brother did, but he could surely forgive? Wasn't forgiveness part of love? If it were, then could his father not forgive Loki of his actions like he had Thor? He felt in his heart that his father loved Loki. Maybe he did not openly mourn Loki, but the God had heard that soft "_no_" his father whispered when Loki let him go as well.

"You are thinking of him again," Víðarr stated.

"He is my brother," Thor replied.

He nodded. "Do you know what you are going to do?" The Jötunn slid the rest of the way down to the basin. The God soon followed, coming to a stop when he collided with his leg. Víðarr moved forward, not relenting in his pursuit.

"I shall protect my brother," he answered honestly through quacking teeth. "I shall also stop him and force him to see what he has done wrong. But I shall stand beside him the entire time, even if he wishes otherwise."

"You are a good brother then," the Jötunn complimented. "But I fear you may be late in preventing his destruction."

"Late?" Thor asked worryingly.

"Yes," he said with a nod. "The mountain sides have been quiet. This is prime season to hunt Eikþyrnir, but I have seen no hunters nor heard their howling. I cannot think of any reason why my people would forsake the hunting season when food is scarce. I feel in my heart that something is amiss. We must get your hammer—"

"My hammer is called Mjölnir," Thor clarified.

Víðarr shifted his weight, and in a solid motion threw the God over his shoulder before jogging towards the metal wreck. "We must retrieve your hammer quickly and return you to Asgard." He unceremonously dumped Thor onto the ground like a sack full of potatoes. Thor grunted from the force alone, but the next grunt came from his Jötunn friend. The God flinched at the sound of ice as thick as the mountains beating against the cold, hard exterior of the observatory. He stumbled back in time to dodge a nasty looking piece of metal. The hole created was large enough for Víðarr to grip the edges with his rough fingers and peel back the metal to break inside the observatory. "After you," he grunted.

Thor was relieved to have some relief from the biting wind. He heard his comrade squeeze through the door behind him before shacking his body to rid himself of the thick ice build up. Watching, the God felt considerably grateful that he wasn't a Frost Giant and had to deal with constant ice build up. He had heard Víðarr complain enough on their journey to know that the ice build up was annoying as hell and quite common among the Jötunn. "So... Víðarr, I have not asked yet, but why are you helping me? We are enemies," Thor spoke as he began to search for the casket among the wreckage.

"Are we?" he questioned. "How can two brothers ever be enemies?"

"But we are not brothers," The God stated. "You are a Jötunn and I am an Æsir." The silence that followed smacked Thor in the face. He turned to Víðarr, who simply stared sadly at him. He felt compelled to turn his full body towards the giant and confront him with honesty. "We are different, Víðarr?"

He slowly nodded. "Yes, we are different, Thor." Víðarr let out a deep breath and then turned away to search for the artifact.

There was something amiss in his step that intrigued Thor; something not quite right. If there was anything he had learned, it was that Víðarr was Yggdrasil's worst liar. He could not keep his emotions in check, and so they poured into his every move. Right now, his emotions were unbalanced and on edge. "What are you not telling me?" Thor asked, more like demanding.

He could hear Thor marching after him. The Jötunn stopped. "I came because you are a brother who needed help," he sighed. "And we are brothers, Thor. We share the same father..." He looked down on the God with heavy, red eyes. Thor stared bewilderedly at him; mouth partially open and eyes about to pop out of his head. "I-I-I am s-s-sorry," Víðarr stuttered quickly, shaking his head and beating himself. "I-I should not have told you." He began to pace away, focusing his attention back on finding the casket.

"Odin is _your_ father?" Thor asked, standing where he had left him. "How is that possible?"

He glanced with uncertainty to Thor before huffing and returning to the task at hand. "From before the war," Víðarr explained detachedly. "He used to be sworn brothers to Laufey. He would often come and visit Laufey, and when Heimdallr had his gaze turned, would take a mistress for the night."

"My father was brothers with Laufey?" he asked, trying his very best not to laugh. "He loathed Laufey!" Thor shook his head and curled his numb fingers to his best abilities. "No! My father _never_ mentioned he was sworn brothers to that _miserable_ king!"

"Well, he was. He, Laufey, and Hœnir were all sworn brothers; thick as theives, close as triplets, and as troublesome as cubs," he rattled on. "In their prime, there was nothing the three of 'em could _not_ do. To show the skeptics who criticized their relationship and powers, the three of them created mortals for all three of them to rule. Our father gave them life; Hœnir gave them intelligence; and then they were shaped in the image of Laufey. After creating the first mortals Ask and Embla, no one dared to criticize what they were capable of then."

"If what you are saying is true, and I am not saying I believe it, then you are half Æsir," Thor accused. "So are the rest of _them_."

Víðarr shook his head. "No, we are all full Jötunn," he corrected. "Our father is a special type of Jötunn called an Etin. They were a smaller breed but capable of much strength and intelligence."

"So I am a _half-breed_?" Thor gasped. He cringed at the word, loathing it to its very origin.

"To my knowledge, the only son Frigga bore was Baldr," Víðarr spoke without hesitation; his voice was growing stronger. "Jörð is your mother. So you are a full Jötunn—er... Etin in your case." He looked to a very pale, very wobbly Thor. "If you think about it, it would make sense Thor, given your great strength. You were unrivaled in Asgard? That is no coincidence I tell you." He found himself walking back to Thor and placing his hands on the God's shoulders. He managed a hopeful, unrealistically optimistic smile. "Do not be discouraged, Thor. You are still Æsir in your heart. The heart is what matters, not the blood. I can tell you, your heart is Æsir."

"Why would Father do that? If Baldr is his son, then he is rightful heir to the throne, not me!" Thor rambled. "Baldr was not raised by Mother but some other family. If Baldr is his rightful, then why send him away to be raised with a different family and raise my instead with Mother?"

"That, I cannot answer," Víðarr replied regretfully. "But perhaps when you go home, you shall confront your father about this. But that shall not happen if we do not find the casket first, Thor. So I suggest you put aside your thoughts and focus on our mission." The Jötunn wrapped his arms further around the God. "You are not alone, Thor," he stated with much gusto! "You can always make your home here if you can handle the cold."

"I would rather not," he said through a strained voice.

"As would we," rumbled a deep, grumbling and devouring voice.

* * *

><p>Steve sighed as he hunched over the table, chin on his hands, and eyes studying the ornate table cloth. The little, dysfunctional family had crashed an old, <em>old<em> headquarters near ground-zero of the ice cream fiesta. The place as old enough that the cobwebs still coated every inch the early 19th century furniture. The wallpaper inside was beginning to peel off in layers. The place looked so very sad, and it felt sad. It was just like the place had been forgotten simply because it wasn't state of the art or modern; just pushed aside. Steve felt pushed aside. Every time he went to speak, that arrogant, damn child Tony was first and ready to defend his comment with a snarky remark and "cute" nickname for him_. BAH_!

"I feel like I'm gonna die of asbestos in here," Clint complained as he lifted a black bandana to cover his mouth and nose. He through the doorway to Steve and the rest of the Avengers whom had gathered in the small, spider kingdom called the kitchen. "Tony was lucky enough to escape being cooped up here." He leaned against the counter, not caring how much dust he got on his black sports shirt and jeans.

"Rather put up with asbestos than Tony," Steve muttered into his hand.

"Just ignore Tony, Steven," Natasha advised. He annoyingly looked up to professionally dressed Black Widow. She had her auburn hair neatly wrapped into a sexy, messy bun. He was surprised Tony hadn't taken her with him, but eh, there was no telling with Tony _ever_. Which was just one of a long, _long_ list of characteristics that annoyed Steve. "Letting him get to you is letting him win."

He narrowed his eyes to daggers at her. "I'm not about to be walked over," Steve growled. "Someone needs to stand up to him and put him in his place."

"And you think you're going to do?" Clint asked skeptically. He laughed full heartedly. "That is the best joke I've heard in a long time."

"Yeah, no offense, Steve, but Tony has a lack of respect for everyone," Bruce commented.

"He's just a sexist bastard genius," Clint added with a sneer.

"That's no excuse for his behavior," Steve replied back calmly. "He is not above anyone else. All he is is a spoiled bully."

"Who gets results," Natasha said. "You can hate him for his personality, but he is an asset to SHIELD. So just try to get along with the man for the sake of the world. Once Loki is eliminated, then you can go at it with Tony."

"I like Loki. He's got a good sense of humor," Clint mused. "He made whole lot of kids happy today. Would've made me happy too if Fury let us take some of that ice cream home."

"Keep dreaming," Bruce said.

He grumbled before abruptly standing and marching towards Clint. "Loki is not to be trifled with, Clint," Steve stated clear as day. "Clearly he has more strength in his little pinky than all of us. He is a deity and a god. You have seen from the videos the kind of strength he is capable of. On top of that, he has satanic powers. Our only hope is that Sigyn can retrieve the Tesseract for us. At least she has a fighting chance against him."

"Oh, get over her, Steve," Clint huffed. "The little bitch turned on us."

"No, she did not," Steve defended. "You were there when Loki confronted her. The two fought, and then he took her prisoner. That's precisely why I keep arguing that we shouldn't be looking for Loki but Sigyn. With us and her, we can bring this god down."

"You're just letting your school boy crush get the best of you," the assassin replied bluntly and with more bite to his voice.

"And you're being closed-minded," he retorted. "For claiming to be such an open-minded and tolerant society, you're pretty damn thick headed and close-minded." Steve grabbed his keys on the counter and headed to the door. He ignored their protests and questions as he opened and closed the door behind him. Down a stoop of steps and a quick jump over a mucky puddle, he straddle his beautiful and gloriously old-style motorcycle. His fingers curled around the clutch and squeezed it as he let go of the brake all together.

_VROOM! VROOM!_

He tugged his goggles over his eyes. Steve weaved like a reckless and free teenager through the traffic of yellow taxi cabs and obese buses. Where he was going to he didn't know, but anywhere was better than being stuffed into that old headquarters with a bunch of spineless, ethnocentric racists. God—he sighed into the wind—what he wouldn't give to go back and change his final moments. If he had known then that crashing the aircraft would be his demise; well, he might've found some other way to change the air craft's course. At the very least, he would've said goodbye to Peggy and said his last words to his family.

_SCREECH!_

Steve hit the brakes harder than an asteroid crashing into the earth. He left an impressive skid mark as he slid to an ungraceful stop at the busy intersection. Beneath his breath he growled at his luck. Just fucking great. Just so fucking great. Why on Earth did he have to hit a red light? Fucking why? His eyes burned like acid, and no doubt, his glare was just as deadly. He glowered at the light, coming to hate the color red more and more with each ominous rumbling in the pit of his stomach. He inched closer to the white line, just ever-so-gently trying to nudge the rude and slow moving pedestrians out of his way. They heeded him no attention and just kept going on their less-than-merry way.

"Get out of my way," growled a pedestrian as their foot hit the front tire. Steve looked down to the business dressed civilian. The man met the super soldier's glare head-on. "Best stay out of my way." He pressed his foot against the front tire and pushed the bike back several inches. Steve growled, growing impatient. "_Mortal_," Loki added with a sneer.

Steve kept his head in place, but he flicked his eyes from side-to-side, taking in his surroundings. There were too many people around to engage Loki, and especially if Loki looked nothing more than an ordinary, rude New Yorker. Fury would be on his ass quicker than a fly on shit. There was no promises that Steve wouldn't simply lash out at Fury and beat his sorry, black ass. He wouldn't feel too bad about it either. It was about time Fury was put in his place—that would only be if he lived through the next few moments.

"Where is Sigyn?" he growled before Loki could more of his two cents in. The God did not appreciate the abrupt demand; he let his eyelids focus his cold, unimpressed eyes on him. The wrinkles around his eyes amplified the lethal glower. "What the hell—" That was a word he rarely used, but for some reason, it felt so appropriate to use it when in the presence of the devil. "What did you do with Sigyn?"

"You have a green light," Loki reminded.

Steve flipped his head over his shoulder, near the point of shouting out obscenities at the honking horns. Oh, fuck 'em; they could just drive around him. "Where is Sigyn?" he growled more ferociously.

"Sigyn is safe and well—"

"_Liar!_"

Loki's lips fell into a stern line. "So I have been called," he retorted flatly. "But—" His voice became much lighter and much less threatening. "You ought to know Sigyn had your name written down for trustworthy mortals." He smiled much kinder and deviously at once. "You must have done something right to earn your name on that very short list, mortal. So why do you not hop off that infernal machine and come with me? I am sure you shall like what I have to offer. You might even get to see Sigyn." Steve stiffened at her name before sinking forward, leaning ever-so-closer to Loki. The God's lips curled up a little bit further. "You would like that, would you not?"

"Yes," he admitted. He squinted his eyes at Loki, and Steve knew that he could see that skepticism gnawing at his bigger desire. "But you are you, Loki."

"That I am," he chirped. "But _what_ am I? Do you know?"

"You are a bully, a liar, and a murderer," Steve retorted. "You want to take over Midgard."

"Am I?" Loki questioned. "You have only heard of me through others. You have never met in person till now."

"I heard enough from Sigyn," the soldier answered.

"Did Sigyn tell you she converted to my side?" he asked. The shock splattered on the mortal's face. Loki slinked from the front of the motorcyle to the side, sliding his hand onto Steve's shoulder. The mortal froze at the god's tight grip on his shoulder and could feel his fingers sinking into his skin through the blue suit. "She chose me, and you trust her. So you ought to trust me as well," Loki suggested. "And deep down, you know as well you ought to come with me. You know in your mind that you do not belong to this world, and the people of this world know as well. I can offer you that opportunity to belong to a new world, a better world."

"Sounds like Hitler," Steve stated.

"Does it? Or does it sound like a secondary revolutionary war?" Loki begged. "Reflect on your realm in its current state. You have waged nuclear war against each other; committed genocide against whole races; and slaughter each for fun and games. Your realm has known no peace, and unless higher power acts, then there shall be no peace in this realm. Eventually, either you shall destroy yourself or your reckless use of sacred resources shall eventually lead your race to its death. I can prevent that from ever happening. Your race cane thrive as much as Asgard did."

"_Did_?" the mortal inquired suspiciously.

There was no use in lying. Loki nodded. "Asgard has fallen. The Frost and Fire Giants invaded Asgard and defeated them," he explained solemnly. "That event could have been prevented if Asgard would have let me secure her borders. I am ashamed to see Asgard fall. For if Asgard had let me simply secure her borders, she would still be standing today." His lips fell into a frown. There was glaze over his solemn eyes; something very distant and yet so relevant. Steve breathed, slowly shaking his head and biting his lip. "You may refuse and go free, mortal. I am giving you that choice."

"A choice?" he questioned.

"I am _not_ a tyrant," the God spoke flatly, slightly insulted. "Surely you see that."

"And Sigyn—"

"You may see her in due time," Loki assured. He could see the question beginning to form on the mortal's lips. "I am protective of her after recent events. She has been unwell. I fear she was poisoned by her adoptive father for unknown reasons." He shook his head, unable to believe it. "I-I cannot fathom as to why he would do such an evil act, but alas, he did not believe me worthy of his daughter. If I would not let go of her, he would make sure that I could not have her. You understand, no?"

Steve's mind drifted to Peggy, and then he turned his head to Loki. The God appeared as genuine as his words. His face was pulled a little too tight like it should have been, and there was searing fire burning behind his cool blue eyes—that anger he must have had for her adoptive father. There didn't appear to be as much energy in Loki as he had seen in previous tapes of him in action. That bit of doubt that was on its hands and knees, begging Steve not to believe him was overlooked by his own empathy for Loki. "How bad is she?"

"Bad. I fear she may not live," he admitted weakly. "It takes a sick person to do what he did."

His stomach plummeted to the ground where it was run over by the busy taxi cabs and cars. Really, it was stupid he cared so much about Sigyn, especially since she cracked two of his ribs last time. But she and he gotten along so well, like two time-lost people who found each other. Though she consider him beneath her, he was okay with that since Peggy had always technically been above him. The more he thought of it, the more Sigyn had reminded him of Peggy. She was strong-willed, headstrong, and intelligent. She very obviously didn't need a man by her side, but that hadn't stopped him from wanting to be that man beside her to stand up with her. "Isn't there anything you can do?" he asked.

Loki sighed, licking his lips. His temple was throbbing from the ruckus of the cars, unable to keep himself contained, he took himself, Steve, and his damn precious motorcycle to much quieter location outside the city near the woods. Steve's head was here and there, trying to figure out how one second he was in New York City, and then the next in no man's land. "There is a way to save Sigyn, but..." His voice trailed off as he walked away from Steve to mindlessly inspect the trees. "She shall not be the same."

"What do you mean she won't be the same?" Steve inquired. "If you save her, she still is Sigyn."

"No," he breathed. "She shall not." Loki touched a leaf to feel the smooth texture and slippery morning dew. "There are myths among us, the Gods, that we are nothing more than incarnations. In each cycle we are reincarnated; however, each incarnation is the same but _not the_ same. Each incarnation supposedly is unique but follows the same path as his or her predecessor. A feat of this magnitude had never been attempted before in any realm. But to do so, I shall need the blood and flesh of a pure human."

"Pure human?" he asked.

"A pure human is one whose blood has not been tainted with any of the other races; which is quite rare considering how the other races interacted with the mortals," he explained. "This is required because a pure human is composed of three deep magics from the three noble races. If I can find a pure human, then I may extract that magic and the Tesseract to reincarnate Sigyn. As you have access to the government, you shall be more than capable of finding such information for me. I have no doubt that your SHIELD guards them."

He nodded, stepping off his motorcycle to approach Loki. "I can look," Steve said. "What am I looking for?"

"Embla and Ask," he replied shortly. "Otherwise known as Eve and Adam in your mythology. They were the first mortals to be created; however, they were distinctively different than their offspring. They are the only true immortals because sorcery in its purest form does not age. Find Embla and bring her to me so I may save Sigyn."

The super soldier gave another nod. "I can do that," he assured. "Do you want me to bring you the giant as well?"

He whipped around. "Giant?" Loki asked. "What giant?"

"SHIELD harbors a giant," Steve enlightened. "He may be of some help to us."

"And what is the name of this giant?" he questioned in a hiss. Loki unhappily slithered towards him.

"Býleistr Laufeyson." The God's pale face drained of what little color he had left, turning an unhealthy shade of white death. Loki's temple twitched eerily. Steve stood his ground, but he couldn't help but feel regret for mentioning it. "You don't have to get him involved. I was just saying it was an idea."

"No," Loki dismissed with a mild panic. "I shall find him." He turned his back to the soldier and let out a deep breath. But his heart continued to race inside his chest. The God couldn't imagine what this giant would be like if he knew that he, Loki, killed his father. By Odin's beard if he told a single Midgardian about it. That would be it. His run would be done with before he even had a chance of being king. "Yes, I shall find him," he repeated more calmly. "Where is this giant?"

"In Nome, Alaska," Steve answered. "He stays with an older couple called Mr. and Mrs. Edward Henderson—" Loki vanished in black smoke before he even had a chance at finishing his sentence. Oh well... He sighed and turned back to his motorcycle. He managed a small smile. At least he had a legitimate excuse for his absence and extra time to go riding on the back roads. Maybe Clint was right, Loki wasn't so bad after all.

* * *

><p><strong> AN:** I have not forgotten about Thor and the giants! They were there the entire time, just walking and talking and doing boring shit. But no more boring shit! Thor is confronted about his heritage; Vidar is kind've mad at himself for letting his mouth slip but happy too. Then cue the ominous 3rd person voice.

And yes, Steve is a bit racist. Since he came from the 1940s, blacks were still did not have all the rights as whites did. So to keep Steve more in-character from his generation, he is racist. I'm **_NOT_** doing this to insult people, just simply to stay true to characters and their generational tendencies. And as we see, the opportunistic Loki had luck on his side and was able to convince Steve to join the ranks of The Cabal! But seriously Loki, I hate you. Not only did you do that to Sigyn in the last chapter, but now you blame Njord? There is no hope for you.

_**LAST NOTE:**_ Kirixchi has written a wonderful story SigynxLoki called "Azimuth." She had a goal to get the story 200 reviews. Well, I would like to help her reach that 200 review goal. So please, go read this story and review. You won't be disappointed!

fanfiction (dot) net / s / 7080486 /1 /Azimuth


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